Light Refreshments Served

The school schedule is underway, and the mismatched pieces of my daily routine are finally fitting together.  Slowly.  I’m not exercising, waking up earlier than the kids, or anything exemplary like that, I’m just holding it together and I’m excited about that.  The school schedule, versus the summer schedule, creates some sort of magical effect on the kids that gets them to do what I want them to do when I want them to do it.  The Summer is all about their activities.  The School Year is still all about them, but I have the illusion of control.  Who said parenting isn’t about smoke and mirrors?

Still, when I dropped off Phoebe at kindergarten for her first day of school, I had a little lump in my throat.  This is a big deal for me.  I had to practically run out of the school before I burst into tears (only made it barely out the door) when I dropped off Miles, and then with Owen, I made it home and cried in the quiet of my own home, which is more socially responsible.  So when I walked to the car with three-year-old Hugh and baby Margaret, Hugh just looked at me and said, matter-of-factly, “Well, you’ve only got ONE KID now.  And a baby.”  As if he was totally unimpressed, or commenting on the weather.  The little lump in my throat didn’t feel like a big deal to me this time around, mainly because I now realize that kindergarten lasts as long as changing a couple of diapers and barely two loads of laundry.  What, you’re home already?

Of course, the amount of tears shed by a mother on her child’s big day isn’t a contest to prove the amount of love that mother possesses for her child. It’s just a personality thing.  I get that; I’m a crier.  I came to terms with that a long time ago.  I just prefer, now, to do my crying alone when I think about how fast they grow up.  Some days I cry because I want them to stay this age forever.  Sometimes I cry because I think they’ll stay this age forever.

As I’ve said before, this isn’t my first rodeo, you know?  Mothering as an emotionally charged mother has its own special bag of goodies.  But today I discovered that only a week and a half into this new school year, Hugh and the baby and I have our little routine now, and it’s pretty great.  Now it’s their turn.  Phoebe went off to school and Hugh looked at me and said, “Let’s go to the store!”  I needed some supplies (because it’s a full-time job to keep this house stocked with diapers, toilet paper, soaps, etc, but that’s a long, boring post for another day), so off we went.  Shopping with two kids instead of five?  What a treat!  (That sounds sad, I know, but it’s all about my little victories).  At Target Hugh and I shared some nachos.  He likes the ones without any cheese sauce, I like the ones drenched in it.  How perfect! It was a special moment of clarity for me.  I always dread that the phase of life I’m in will end, and I don’t want it to, but then the next phase is good, too and brings unexpected delights (nachos).  Two things I love about that moment:  Hugh likes to go shopping, and I had my special mothering moment due, in large part, to my unnatural love of artificial cheese flavoring.