School Daze

At our house, we are excitedly gearing up for the start of school.

Actually, I made that part up.  We're totally not excited at all.  In reality, we are limping along, still stuck in lazy summer mode.  We are greeting these weeks of back-to-school preparation with plenty of kicking and screaming.  No one is ready to get up early, deal with homework, and pack lunches.  And by "no one," I mean me.  

It feels as if we'd finally skidded across the finish-line to summer vacation and now, here we are, preparing to start all of that school busy-ness all over again.  I feel weary just thinking about it.

I remember when the kids were small.  To put it nicely, they drove me nuts.  Three weeks into summer vacation, I was ready to ship them off to the circus.  Their constant desire for entertainment was exhausting.  I remember thinking, can't they just go outside and play for two and a half months like we did when we were kids?

I'm always amazed at how quickly small children become bored.  Even with a room full of toys, pets, TV, books, bikes, and games, they still lament that there's nothing to do.  Now that they're older, my kids know better than to use the b-word around me.  If they forget, I'm quick to remind them that I haven't been bored since 1982.  I am SO not exaggerating either. 

Jobs, bills, laundry, cooking, cleaning, chauffeuring, food shopping, and yard work - if kids knew what was waiting for them once they grow up, they'd never utter the b-word during summer vacation again. 

That's why, after an entire summer of hearing their complaints that there wasn't anything to do, I couldn't wait for school to begin.  I back-to-school shopped like it was my job.  I nagged about summer reading logs.  I kept track of the days left until school on my calendar.  And when that magical day arrived?  I was more than happy to put them on the school bus and have the house to myself again.

These days?  Meh.  The end of summer feels completely different now that my kids are older.  Most noticeably, they're able to entertain themselves and don't require much from me.  No one needs me to make their lunch, change the TV channel, get out the sprinkler, or read them a story.  Two of them no longer need me to drive them anywhere. 

When we do spend time together, it's easy and relaxed.  We talk and joke and laugh.  We build camp fires and talk about internet memes.  We share movies and music and dreams.  In other words, we enjoy just being with one another. 

No way am I ready for this to end.

I know that we'll get ourselves together and be ready for school when the time comes.  For now, though, there's still some summer left.  These kids won't be kids forever, you know.

Heart Bruises

(image from www.empowermentnetwork.com)

In the years that I've been a mother, I've gotten plenty of practice at helping hurt kids feel better.  I've kissed dozens of boo-boos, applied countless bandages, and dried plenty of tears.  After a short while, the child stops crying and realizes he’s going to be just fine.  The injury, once so scary and painful, is soon forgotten and life returns to normal.

Hurts of the romantic kind are not so easy to heal.  As my boys grow older, I find that such hurts become increasingly inevitable.  No one can wander unscathed within the prickly but enticing land of love.  We can’t help getting stuck by a thorn or two, and when we do, it’s always painful and unexpected.

When it comes to heartache, I’m never quite sure what to do or say to my kids.  I mean, I know to be there for them if they want to talk, and to help them understand that one day, they really will feel OK again.  I know to remind them that they are still worthy people even if someone else says  they aren’t. 

I know to make sure that they eat a little something even if the sadness makes food seem uninteresting.  But beyond that, what?  None of this feels like enough when your child is hurting.  Even though I know that I can’t take the pain away and make it all better, all of my mama instincts drive me to at least try.

Then there’s the matter of the ex-girlfriend.  Whether she breaks up with him, or the other way around, I’m not quite sure of what to do next.  If their relationship has been a long one, and we’ve welcomed this girl into our family, I tend to feel as if I’ve been broken up with, too.  Am I expected to just abruptly halt any contact with her?  Turn off my feelings of affection?  If so, shouldn’t I say something to her before I do?  There’s no action that feels comfortable.  This is the kind of stuff that someone should include in those “What to Expect” parenting books.  

To make things even more difficult, sometimes I don’t agree with my kids’ choices.  Recently, my middle son dated a lovely girl we had both known since he was in kindergarten.  They went through elementary school together, and I knew her and her family well.  When he cavalierly announced to me that he’d broken up with her, I felt terrible.  I wanted to call her up, tell her all men are pond scum, and share a pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream with her.  

What’s more, I felt bad that because of my son, two other parents had to pick up the pieces of their child’s broken heart.  I know what it feels like to be there, completely powerless, knowing that the only way it’s going to feel better is with time.  

As I navigate yet another break-up with one of my sons, I’m reminded of my own heartaches so many years ago.  While they were certainly painful, years of life experience allow me to reflect upon them differently.  I’m now able to view the people who’ve come and gone in my life with love and appreciation.  No one can spend time in our hearts without leaving a part of themselves behind.  Most times, those remnants are gentle lessons that propel us forward in ways that we can’t even imagine. 

My son is a long way from the love and appreciation part, and that’s OK.  For now, I’ll be here if he needs me, helping him to scoop up the broken pieces.