First Day of School (Plus some other pictures)
The Weekend Before
Maggie Mae starts school on Monday and if I let myself think about it too much, I get a huge, gigantic lump in the back of my throat and butterflies in my tummy. She talks more about her ‘five year old skull’ than her ‘three year old skull’ because we drive past the local elementary school frequently and we’ve told her it’ll be her school when she’s five. I can hardly fathom the fact that we’ve arrived on the weekend before she becomes a true preschooler, let alone what she’ll be like when she’s five. My heart hurts to think about it, about the changes.
As a teacher, I feel like I loved and appreciated all my students, especially the quirky ones. It was once described to me that teaching is like getting 20+ new best friends in September and saying goodbye to them in June, and I really felt that way. Some years were a bit more wonky than others, but I loved learning with my students. Being home with my kids, and putting teaching on the back burner for now, has been one of the best decisions that I’ve ever made. Of course, I’ve mothered Maggie and loved her, but within that I’ve taught her, read to her, listened to her.
And then suddenly we’re here.
One more day stands between our family and Maggie’s first day of school. She’s ready and I know that I am, too. I now realize that I’ve had it backwards all those years that I was teaching. I was always a bit of a mama bird to my students on the first days of school, swooping them into my classroom with the hopes of getting a routine underway, feeling protective and compassionate towards them and their learning, not fully understanding the tearful parents overstaying their welcome or peeking into the windows. Perhaps I should have been more compassionate towards those parents on those first days, assuring them that I’d take care of their child. I’d listen. I’d notice the quirks. And most of all, I’d care.
These milestones arrive with such a perfect blend of excitement and apprehension. I’m going to hide a tissue in my back pocket and only let myself feel sad after I’ve said good-bye to my brave little chicken on Monday. It is my hope that this is the start of a really great thing. . .
Fake Camping 2013: Part One
I write often about how blessed and lucky I feel to be a mother, motherhood changed my life in so many ways for the better. Barry and I had a fantastic life that immediately got more wonderful once we became parents. That said, I would be a liar if I said that there were a few things I didn’t miss from my former life. Since sleep is the obvious thing that EVERY parent misses, I’ll go out on a limb and assume y’all either feel the same way or know what I’m talkin’ about. So, sleep aside, I think that I really miss camping and the ability to throw just a few things in the car and be set. The past FEW summers we’ve really abandoned that part of our lives and I miss it dearly. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know that we’ll get back into heading out with regularity, but we’ll probably have a lot more gear than when we were free wheelin’ singletons.
We took Maggie camping when she was just a fewmonths old and we just weren’t feeling that ambitious this time around. My brothers, Geneviève, and parents were willing to come ‘fake camping’ with us at Camp Janet for a weekend in early August. It happened to fall on my mom’s birthday, as well as a weekend that my grandparents, Sue and Chach were able to come up to A-Town for a visit/concert. As far as Maggie could tell, it was one more time that a group of her favorite people got together, with the bonus of a tent set up in the yard at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. These pictures are from the afternoon of our arrival. . .
