Same Time Next Year

It's that time of year again, back to school time.  Which means it's my crying time.  I am, as I am every year, an emotional mess.  I am not the typical mom who cheers the first day of school, I don't do cartwheels at the bus stop, and I don't bask in all of that uninterrupted quiet time I get for 7 hours a day/5 days a week.  Okay, that last one is a lie; I really do enjoy that part.   It's also that time of year when teachers, mommy-bloggers, and positive parenting sites put out these amazing tutorials, blogs, and essays.  They are all such amazing writers (whom I envy) who's stories make me cry.

Our summers are always well spent.  Just the right amount of everything.  We were busy.  We were lazy.  We enjoyed hours at the pool, hours in front of the tv, hours being together.  We kept up with doctor's appointments, play dates, and summer camps.  We did the go go go thing, and we did the stay in our PJs until noon and not the leave the house thing.  Every minute together was perfect.  Except for the few "my kids-are-not-perfect-I-sometimes-lose-it" times.   

I feel like summer is my chance to watch them grow.  If you have children in school then you know that nights and weekends are usually a blur.  For us summer vacation is a chance to slow down, enjoy more family time, and watch them grow.  And just like every summer vacation from school it comes to an end before I am ready.  It happens every year.  Of course when this new school year comes to a close I will have seen them grow even more.  It happens every year.  The whole watching them grow thing is a bittersweet reminder that they are not my babies anymore.  

Tonight I will cry (tears of sadness) for the end of summer.  Tomorrow I will cry (tears of pride) putting them on the bus.  Tomorrow night I will cry (tears of exhaustion) as we come down off that first day back.   Just as I did last year and just as I will next year.  It happens every year.  

The Wrecking Crew

I never thought cleaning my kids' rooms would move me to tears.   We all know legos and colored pencils can cause tears when stepped upon but, simply picking them up...who knew:

Dear Son,
You have two lego tables and approximately 9,000 legos, so it is no surprise that they simply cannot all be contained and must spill out ALL OVER your floor.  As I picked up today I realized that in a few short years this phase will be over and we won't be tripping over, stepping on, and dancing like a maniac around all of the legos.  You're growing up and one day, all too soon, you'll be moving on from lego houses to dorm rooms to your first apartment.  I am totally NOT cleaning any of those, your father was a bachelor once and eww!

Dear Daughter,
I love that next to your bed you keep a journal, a sketch pad, and always a pencil or two or sometimes 50 strewn about close by.  You have always had a hard time saying what you want, but you have never had a hard time articulating those thoughts into written words and drawings.  You have the creative ability that takes most professional artists their whole lives to perfect.  One day you too will be moving on and, as much as I may not like that, I know you'll have new tools to express yourself with.

To the both of you,
For now I will relish in your messy, cluttered, disorganized rooms for when you are older I don't want your memories to be how clean your room was; I want your memories to be what we created, dreamt, built, and played in your rooms.  The day will come soon enough when you put away your childhood play things.  It is a hard day to imagine and one I will choose not to think about.  The next time you hear me say, "Your rooms are a wreck", what I hope you'll hear is, "I love that you're enjoying this crazy childhood where all you have to worry about is what will you play next".  (even if you don't put the first toy away first, sigh)

Love,
Mom
p.s. now go clean your room!

As The Girl Grows

“It's about a girl who is on the cusp of becoming someone.. A girl who may not know what she wants right now, and she may not know who she is right now, but who deserves the chance to find out.” ― Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

Today my daughter grew up. "They" said it would happen all at once, overnight, right before your eyes. I didn't believe that until today. Not my daughter, she'll always be my little girl.

After eight short years of my daughter denying denim she decided she wanted to try on a pair of jeans. I have to admit I was excited because one day she will curse the very existence of jeans. I mean seriously have you ever met a woman who loved to shop for jeans, could find the perfect fitting jeans, and looked good in whatever pair she tried on. Yeah, no they don't exist.

My daughter refused to wear jeans because of her sensory issues. All clothes must be the perfect fit, elastic waist, non-clinging, not too loose, and nothing that could cut into her waist or stomach. So imagine my complete shock and awe when she not only chose a pair but decided to try them on.

And then it happened. In the dressing room. Clearly the room had magic mirrors because when my daughter put those jeans on she aged a good six years. She turned around and there she was in the perfect pair of jeans, hugging her (someday they'll be there) curves, accentuating her already long legs, and giving her the look that mom-jean and bar-jean wearing women everywhere envy.

OH HELL NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I couldn't breath, I was sweating, the little room was spinning, and I clutched door trying to fan it for air. And then as if the Mom gods decided to finally be in my favor my daughter said, "Nah, I don't like them b/c of this button". PHEW!!! For the first time in her life I actually thanked the fact that she has a delay with fine motor skills. YES...she hated them! She was eight again and I could breath!

I have a feeling these moments of seeing her grow from my little girl to a young woman in an instant are going to become more frequent. I anticipate many moments of anxiety as I watch the sudden transformation. But for now and always I cling to the fact that she's still my little girl.

I will be starting a Jeans-Burning-Movement tomorrow, just in case!

The Sleepover Sept. 2009

A “sleepover” in my bed, with the kids, that was my first mistake! It sounded like a good idea at the time; Friday night, hubby is out of town, snuggle time with my kids, a treat for them, and a much deserved early bedtime for me!

Apparently children learn from a very young age that sleepovers are all about talking & giggling & talking some more. It was cute for the first three minutes. Then I made my second mistake. “Whoever is the quietest the longest and falls asleep first gets a prize”. Certainly one little lollipop for breakfast won’t kill them. All was quiet until I hear “Mom, Ian…what will the surprise be”? “Is tonight a school night”? “I need a drink”. “I’m hungry”. It’s obvious at this point that both children have lost the game and clearly Mama should win the prize. Certainly one little shot of Bailey’s in my coffee won’t kill me.

At 1:30a.m. I awake drenched in sweat. Gross I know but the truth must be told. Apparently at the time of proposed sleepover a queen size bed seemed large enough to hold a mother who is not exactly the same size she was when bed was purchased, a five year old, a three year old, and a 15 year old cat. I get comfortable once more and I hear this awful “grrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttttttttttttttttttteeeeeeeeeeee” that which can only be described as rubbing a rock on a cheese grater. What the…when your husband is out of town your mind goes to places in the middle of the night that no one in their right mind would admit. Lucky for me I am not the sort in the right mind and can admit such things. I imagined we were under attack by alien rock graters. Turns out my alien was a 3 year old boy who grinds his teeth in his sleep. Okay get comfy once more, “ggrrrrraaaattttteeee”. Oh Boy! I actually found myself squeezing his cheeks, gently mind you not like Aunt Hilda used to do after she hadn’t seen you in a year. I gave up, I rolled over, I dreamed happy thoughts (two shots of Bailey’s), and finally fell asleep as my alien kept grating rocks!

“Mmmmmmmmmoooooooooooooommmmmmmm” I need a tissue…HURRY! Where am I, I just fell asleep, what is going on, now what? I glance at the clock (3:30) as I fall out of bed to run to get a tissue…a wad of toilet paper because I am one of those slacker moms who doesn’t keep tissues on every stand in arms reach. I race back, five year old is upset and still in need of the tissue. “Mom, what is it…ewwww”. Tempted to say “It’s just the rock grating alien invading your body” but knowing it would scare the heck right out of her I opted for the truth. “It’s just a bloody nose honey, lie back on your pillow and hold this” her 3rd wad of toilet paper. “Mom, remember you said we get a prize in the morning” How could I forget. I glance at the clock again I can’t help but think that it’s 3:30 in the morning and I don’t see how this is possible as it was just 1:30 and surely time has been altered while we were fighting the heat & the aliens.

And then it was 6:30. The sleep was over. The alien was awake asking me to get up with him and when would it be light out. We stumble downstairs and I pour the coffee with a smile knowing it’s going to be a great day because Mama has now earned 3 shots of Bailey’s for her coffee!

The sleepover may not have been my best idea to date but I don’t regret it one minute. Because for 10 hours, while they were 10 interrupted hours I had my babies close to me and I know that the next 10 years are going to fly by as quickly as those 10 hours did and I know they’ll be asking for real, unsupervised, sleepovers with their friends, not with their Mommy.