Summer's End

Can it really be August? Not just August, but the end of August? The end of summer? The end of freedom? The end of sleeping in? The end of staying in my PJ's and drinking coffee while checking Facebook until 10 AM? The end of last minute trips to the zoo? The end of lounging in the pool? (Well, lounging is really overstating thing when you have children aged 2, 4 and 6, but still....) The end of staying up late, roasting marshmallows over the fire pit, and catching lightening bugs.

The end of this summer in particular is a mix of emotions. My oldest baby is headed to first grade. Yes, he's already been in school a whole year, but kindergarden is more like a hiccough in the day than real school. He was only gone two and a half hours each day, and so everything we did before could really be rearranged to still fit into the schedule. More importantly, his life still seemed to be completely intertwined with and dependent upon the family. And by family, I mean me. I'm not generally a total control freak, but for six and a half years I have spent a whole lot of time making sure this child is not just fed and clothed and bathed, but had friends from kind families to play with, interesting outings and activities to stimulate his intellect, quality books read to him, loving words spoken to him, and a calm environment in which to grow.

And now he will be gone. I know, I know, it's only 7 hours a day. Still, a family's entire existence can easily become all about school and less about the things one wants their family to be. Getting ready for school, carpool, homework, making lunch, homework, concerts, open houses, curriculum night, more homework, PTA meetings, picture day, fundraisers, it goes on and on. Who he becomes friends with, the information he is exposed to, the latest slang he gets to hear and repeat will all be out of my control.

I realize I have a long way to go before this parenting this is over, and in fact it never really is over. But I also think that there are some things I only had six and a half years to teach him before I sent him out into a big, sometimes scary, sometimes thrilling, sometimes fascinating, sometimes dangerous, not often enough compassionate and kind, not gentle enough world. I just hope I have taught him at the tender age of six-and-a-half to be smart enough, strong enough, savvy enough, gentle enough and tough enough for such a world for those seven hours a day.

Making Plans

There's a particularly annoying difference I've been noticing this week between men and women.  Not news really, I realize.  There are lots of those.  But here it is...

When I plan to do something that is not a part of my everyday grocery shopping, school carpool, returning library books, swim lessons, soccer practice, childcare, laundry, cooking, etc. I make sure that whatever I would like to do, be it a fun ladies night out or a trip to the gynecologist sans children,  fits into everyone else's schedule.  I make sure there's no conflicting soccer practice, or if there is, that an alternate plan is in place before my plans are official.  I check to make sure that my husband has no planned work or social activity, and in the likely event he does, I arrange childcare or change plans.  I  I make sure that my husband wouldn't feel too burdened, too tired, too stressed, or too cranky to take on the responsibility.  If my plans require me to be gone from home during dinner time, I make sure that dinner is planned and usually prepared and waiting before I head out.If my plans require that someone other than me complete the morning routine, I make sure I have backpacks packed, clothes laid out, snacks prepared, and paperwork signed before I leave so that all anyone has to do is put children in the car and deposit them at their location.  This frequently includes preparing directions or instructions for the drop off, activity or event.  

When my husband makes plans out of the normal routine, he says "I'm going to go...."(play golf, go to a movie, grab a beer, hang out here a while longer, etc.) and then he does it.

Visitors

My in-laws are visiting. We invited them because Hubby and I had a couple of things going on this weekend that required extended babysitting, and they love an excuse to come for a visit so it worked out well for everyone. Yet as always, I started to reconsider the cost-to-benefit ratio of a visit about ten minutes after their arrival. Don't get me wrong--my in-laws are very kind, very nice, very generous, and very helpful people.

However, MIL and I have different viewpoints on darn near everything that exists or could exist or existed in the past or will exist in the future. Let me give you some examples. Dear MIL likes to feed the children bananas. That's good, since bananas are so healthy. However, after about the third banana in a day, they tend to have trouble, um..., err..., producing in the bathroom. Apparently, this is not her concern since it generally occurs after her departure.

According to the in-laws, the 6 year old child who loves salad, carrots, celery, vegetable soup, corn on the cob, broccoli, and spinach is insufferably picky because he doesn't like fruit and prefers to avoid beef if possible. Ok so everyone has an opinion, except they continue to ask him and me if he is any less picky each and every time we see them. Usually at each and every meal that we have together.

I was reminded to be careful to not let the 4 year old "escape" to the back yard, where he generally plays most days on his own.

I was instructed to nag my husband to do more home repair projects (his least favorite thing ever). I was clearly unaware that this was a constructive marital strategy.

I was informed that the clothes the children wore to the park to play in were not acceptable to wear for a nap since all that going down the slide made them so messy.

It became obvious that the paper towels, trash can, and most of my dishes and silverware must not live in the correct spots since they were rearranged within hours of the in-law's arrival.

Clearly I am slacking in my parental duties because the just-turned-2-year-old is not enrolled in preschool, piano lessons, dance lessons, or charm school. Whatever is that child doing with all her free time?

There seems to be some confusion concerning the connection between bedtimes and the crankiness factor of my children. While I get the Meanest Mommy award for saying when they should go to bed, I also get the Ineffective Parent Commendation when they are little demons the next day.

I do love a good date night and in-laws who are willing to babysit at the drop of a hat. But I am thoroughly thankful that a four hour drive keeps the visits rare enough and short enough to continue having such appreciation.

Faith

My friends said, "You HAAAAAAVE to join Facebook. It's so great to connect with everyone and we can share pictures and see the babies and chat online and ...." So I did. And it has sucked away time I didn't have anyway. Instead of laundry and dishes and clipping coupons and putting together a puzzle with the kids, I check all 231 friends' status 27 times a day. So more friends say, "Oh, your FB status updates are so funny! You should start a blog." "What's a blog?" I say. Well, here I am, instead of folding the laundry or cleaning the basement or planning my grocery list. We'll see how it goes. Somehow it seems I have faith my friends know what they are talking about.