School Days

11121111_sIn my mind, I’m still in the “Waiting for Spring” mode. Remember that post, way back at the end of March? Now, we are at the last week of August. I wonder if the time has gone  as fast for the young person preparing to go back to school. Actually, there are a few who have already returned – beginning a new year in a higher grade. I consider that a definite “Right of passage.” I guess at this stage of the game, you, Mom have already shopped for those notebooks, pencils, back packs, and oh yes – that first day of school outfit. They all want to turn a few heads walking to the newly assigned locker in their snazzy just purchased denim skirt, or that cool pair of Converse Chuck Taylor high tops as the sweet days of summer quickly slip away. The days of sleeping in for them, late breakfasts, and being at the friend’s until all hours is over for now, and the hectic schedule has officially been re-introduced.

Oh for school days, with the rules, lessons, homework, basketball, soccer, football games, flute lessons, and the practices to back it all up; hallways bursting at the seams, droned chatter filling those corridors, ringing bells, lines for lunch, and auditorium visits. It all has the sound of some sort of regimented military campaign, doesn’t it? But, we’ve all done it, and managed to survive it, from our five-year olds, up and through our young adult children. This always takes me to the idea of “newness.” We put our little ones on the bus, and we don’t interact with them again until it returns them home. Yes, there are teachers and aids to assist in getting them to their proper place, but this is when “you,” the parent finds out how good a job you’ve done in rearing that child – teaching him/her independence. Although, no amount of independence will turn aside the tears shed by both the little one, and mom when it comes to that first day ever. I think I cried all the way to work that day after dropping off my daughter, and watching an aid escort her to the proper line. But, this to I believe is a right of passage. I have to chuckle, because that could mean for both Mom, and the little one.

The memories of school stay with us the remainder of our lives – good or bad. Personally, every time I open a new book my nose is immediately drawn to the spine. I don’t think there is another fragrance like it in the world. My husband talks about glazed donuts. Why, you ask? When he came in from school with his little buddies, his mom always had freshly home-made ones waiting for them. My daughter remembers a time (two or three months) when my grandmother visited with us. Each of those days, on her arrival from school Great Grandma had a full course meal waiting, pork chops with mashed potatoes. No matter how old you become you hold to those precious snippets of life; they somehow have gotten mixed in to the mold that is you.

Parents look forward to this time of year, because now, semi-quiet returns to the house, and Mom has all those hours to herself; a time for rejuvenation and rethinking those objectives and aspirations, if only for a moment. Because, very soon, the bumper sticker proclamations will again announce your comings and goings, and rule a lot of the afternoons; Soccer Mom, Football Mom, and Mom’s Taxi. Don’t sigh, and shake your head, you know I’m right. Then, as if all of that weren’t enough, I hear – “Mom, Becky and I want to go to the mall, can you take us?” I also, wouldn’t want to leave Dad out, because I know many of you do your share, as well. But, relish every moment now, because the years go entirely to fast.  Like the song, Sunrise, Sunset – Swiftly go the years – believe me they really do. So, rock on Mom. Oh, and you too, Dad.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s