Back on the Glorious Big Yellow Bus

If you’re a mom there are a couple of different camps regarding back-to-school.  There are the very vocal, can’t wait for the school supply letter type and the other who don’t want to look too anxious to get rid of their kids.  They say things like, I will miss them! The house will be so empty without them.  They were a joy this summer.  We had such a great time together.    Those mothers are the ones I would like to choke.

Each June I look forward to the end of school.   I long for days where my mornings are not:  “Where’s your homework? No, you have to go to school. Did you put it in your back pack?  You know if you would PUT it AWAY at night like I tell you to we wouldn’t be searching for it now.  You’re not sick.  Get dressed.   Do you have your lunch? If you feel worse later have the teacher call me and I’ll pick you up.  Why don’t your shoes match?  I’m sure you don’t have a fever.  What permission slip? No, I do not think you have the flu.  What do you mean the bus is here?”

Summer is supposed to be a time filled with fun.  If you add it up; we did a lot.  A handful of day trips in the city, trip to Grandma & Grandpas, Grandpa & Oma came here for a visit, lots of beach days, swimming in friends’ pools, movies, and don’t forget the various camps and lacrosse tournaments. 

But I still have work to squeeze in now and again.  Sometimes it rains and we can’t do the beach.  Sometimes the car’s in the shop and we’re not going anywhere.  Sometimes it’s so freakin’ hot that you don’t want to get out of the air conditioning.  The kids got up later and later which forced their bedtimes later (which forces my bedtime later).  Neighborhood friends were gone; visiting their families or in full day camp. 

And oh—my—god—the—fighting.

So when the school announced they were starting a week earlier than usual I felt a little woozy.  It’s been months of togetherness. I need to miss them a little.  There is the increased rigidity of watching the clock and arranging my entire life around the rest of the family’s schedule.   But there is that brief moment, around 9:20 when the last one has left on the bus and it’s just me and the princess and I cannot believe the quiet that has blanketed the house.  

I feel my heart rate slow down.  I warm my coffee in the microwave, pick up my to-do list, look at the clock, and calculate how many hours until the first one is home.