Walk This Way

Abby is firmly in that stage where she wants to pick out her clothes and, should I say, accouterments.

Her style is somewhat of a cross between Cher, Steven Tyler and Queen Elizabeth.

Case in point.

The Seven Day Itch

Yesterday was the seventh day of school and if you would've asked me yesterday morning I would've said things were going well. Every day Sam seemed happy and engaged, Jake brought home positive reports, and Abby was adjusting well to her new status at day care - she is one of the oldest in her class now that her FIVE best friends left to attend their respective pre-K schools.

But yesterday morning she sobbed when I dropped her off, something she hasn't done since, well, never. "I just want to be with someone," she cried. Cue the guilt. "She's interacting with the other kids - slowly," her teacher told me. Cue the heartbreak.

And then yesterday at 2 I got a call from Jake's school nurse; he was complaining of a stomachache (he was not sick) and after I picked him up he informed me he was never going back. "Who made up school anyway?!" he demanded to know.

And then, last night, after a long and busy day, the dam that is Sam burst forth. He doesn't feel smart, he's homesick, he doesn't have friends, his classes are hard, his days are long, he has no time for reading or playing.

I tried to address each of his complaints but it wasn't working. "Why can't there be 30 hours in the day? Could I go to school only 4 days a week? Why can't I stay at home for school?"

I specialize in martyrdom, but I did my best to not remind him that not much of my day is my own either. But I did tell him that when you get older, your days fill up. And the best you can hope for is that they fill up with people and things you love. I told him that worrying is like rocking in a rocking chair - it may keep you busy but it gets you nowhere.

All eyes were dry by bedtime and deep down I was thinking everyone would feel a lot better after a good night's sleep. So when I woke Sam this morning I was hopeful that he would be ready to face a new day.

"I don't want to go to school today," he told me.

The Honeymoon Is Over

How long does it take for the excitement of a new school year to wear off? I'd say about three days.

As of yesterday no one wants to get out of bed in the morning or into bed at night. And already I wake up thinking, "when could I squeeze in a nap?"

How soon until Christmas vacation?

Places Everyone

So I know I may jinx myself by saying this, but this morning, the first day of school, went off without a hitch. Sam was up on time and at the bus stop by 7:10. Granted, he did get on the wrong bus the first time but he quickly de-bussed and boarded the right one.

While we were at the bus stop Jake got up and ate his breakfast, and he and I left early so we could park and walk in together. Except his idea of "walk in together" means leaving me on the curb while waving me off and whispering, "You can go now."


And just like that, summer is over. It doesn't even seem like we had a summer really. But now that we are back in school I have a few School Year Resolutions I need to get working on:

1. Eat better: We ate out a lot over the summer. And it seemed like everywhere we ate had milkshakes. If a never see a milkshake again, it will be too soon.

2. Get up earlier: This time last year I was in the middle of an exercise boom. I don't know if it was this summer's heat or the fact that I can never stay in an exercise routine for more than a few months, but this was not the summer of exercise. It was the summer of sleep. Alas, the summer of sleep is over.

3. Get moving: Although I'd like to say my summer clothes don't fit because they shrank in the laundry, I think the combination of the aforementioned milkshakes and lack of exercise is really to blame.

4. Clean up: Since the kids were around more than usual this summer I decided it wasn't worth it to tidy up because it was just going to get messy again. Sure, laundry was done (I didn't say put away), floors were swept, garbage dumped. But today the cleaning crusade begins. With any luck I'll finish before next summer.

So while I think the kids had a good summer and I'm glad to get everyone back in a routine, the end of summer is always a little bittersweet. Summer's the perfect metaphor for childhood - carefree, spontaneous, a little messy, and over a little too soon.