School daze....how did I get here???

The kids are excited. Clothing & shoes are labelled. Backpacks are packed. Lunch bags are ready. If everything is ready....then why am I not? I'm not ready for this. The start of this school year is weighing on me; making it feel like the start of a definitive new chapter in my life.

As much as last year was a biggie with daughter starting junior kindergarten, I found solace in the fact that son was still home with me. This feeling kept me going - until the other day. That's when the "OH NOOOOOOO! THEY'RE BOTH GOING TO SCHOOL THIS YEAR!" hit me hard.

These are my babies. It wasn't that long ago that I rocked them to sleep & sang them lullabies. Now, instead of rocking them to sleep, I allow a couple of "cuddle nights" per month. This is when I welcome them into bed so we can have a sleepover in mommy & daddy's room. Truth be told, it's more for my benefit than theirs...but they don't need to know that, do they?

There's a part of me that wants to keep them by my side forever & ever & ever. I'm a self-proclaimed sMOTHERer, but I'm trying to keep that instinct in check. The fact that son will have the same teacher that daughter had last year makes it a tad easier for me to let go, as it were. This teacher is a God-send! If you've ever tried to imagine the perfect teacher, this lady fits the bill: patient, understanding, welcoming, nurturing. Basically, she's everything that a nervous parent (who me???) needs when initiating their child into the education system.

And so, it is with optimism & a heavy heart that I will walk both my children to school tomorrow. I have my big, dark sunglasses for my solo-trek home. I may have to have a chocolate bar or a glass of wine...or, heck...maybe both! I will bake the "happy 1st day of school" cake for my children (an initiative I started last year). I will accept that my babies are growing up. And I will be okay.

Happy 1st day of school!

Growing up too soon

At 10pm, last night, I picked up a recorded message from my daughter's school principal. The news was bad. Not "Your daughter clocked a kid" kinda bad. This was indescribably bad. A student in the school had died & families were being advised that there would be grief counsellors at the school over the next few days. I told you in was indescribably bad.

I mulled this over in my head for a while. How do I explain what's happened to my children? Will I frighten them if I try to explain this first thing in the morning, before school? I decided to let it play out on its own. I didn't have enough information to deal with the situation properly. Did my daughter know the student? Was it someone in her class? Was it an accident that occurred at school? Was the child ill? So many questions that I wouldn't be able to answer, so I let it be. I filed it under my "to dos", to be handled after I had contacted the school for more information.

The receptionist only told me that the young boy was in the 4th grade. It happened at school. A note would be sent home to advise us of when the memorial service would take place. I didn't have the heart to ask any further questions. I'd find a way to explain this with the information I had...once I got home from work.

I asked my daughter how her day went, prepared to discuss the loss of a fellow student, but she beat me to it. "Mommy, it was a sad day today. A boy in my school died. Mrs. Peacock told us & we had a special guest come to tell about the boy who died." Her eyes were wide & full of question. She looked as though she needed to hear that even though this poor child was taken away far too soon, that things would turn out okay. I wasn't quite prepared to tell her that & fluff it over. No, she had been exposed to the fragility of life & there was no going back. I held her close & prepared myself to deal with an onslaught of questions, but there was only silence.

I still remember the first time I was exposed to death. I was the same age as my daughter & my cousin, who was only a year older, had passed away. I remember the tears & uncertainty. That day, I grew up a little. I remember that feeling & wish so much that I could protect my children from it. Sadly, I cannot. All the bubble-wrap in the world won’t protect them from the hurts to come. All the camomile tea in the world won’t sedate me enough to make it through this part of parenthood unscathed.

And through all these emotions & questions, I send my prayers of comfort to a family who lost their little boy...friends who lost a buddy...a school that will always remember the time a shadow befell it, one tragic March day.

Back to school blues

It's more like "starting school for the first time blues". This is the day I've been dreading for just over four years - the day my baby girl goes to junior kindergarten. My heart breaks just thinking of it! Oh yes, I hear you hollering at me to get a grip & keep it together. Hah! Easier said than done, my friend. How can I possible get a grip when I've always kept my children perfectly coddled in my little cocoon? How in the world am I supposed to drop her off & say goodbye without a wavering voice and eyes brimming with tears? How??? There must be some sort of prescription med out there that'll do the trick. (Note to self: investigate prescription meds for moms of children going to school for first time.)

She's ready to go to school. She's been ready & willing for a while now. I'm the one who's kept her close - allowing her only a ballet class & a community centre art class. Those were tough enough on my fragile nature - allowing my child to attend a class ALONE for a full 45 minutes! They didn't even allow me the courtesy of a peep hole so I could have a gander from time to time at how she was doing.

Oh this is torture! Maybe a nanny-cam....yeah...that might do the trick. Or I could send her to school with a wire-tap. Yeah, I could be onto something there.

I've got to snap out of this. She's doing what so many other children will do, have done, and will continue to do - go to school. And I will learn to deal with it. In the meantime, I'll try to prepare myself so when it's my son's turn next September, I won't be quite so close to a nervous breakdown.

Wish me...uh...her luck.