Earthmovers and Sandcastles

Really, I do. At this time of year, though, I’m beginning to finally see the real humor in those back-to-school commercials where the parents dance and frolic in shopping carts with folders and loose-leaf paper, while the kids glower and sulk in the corner. As a new mom, I joined the laughless wall of solemn disapproval that many of the women I know had formed, clucking over the message behind these ads and shaking our heads at how those parents don’t appreciate being with their children enough. Who could possibly rejoice at being separated from their kids? Monsters!

Yeah. I think that often an indication of how new one is to one’s job can be found in how overly seriously one takes it. I like to think I’m a darn good mom, and part of that is because I’ve learned how to throw up my hands and laugh once in a while - both at events in the present and (more often) at how I performed in the past. Hey, it’s better to laugh than to cringe, right? I do a little of both when I look back sometimes.

My point here is that while I’m not performing The Firebird in the aisles of Staples, I will admit to muttering, “Three more weeks…three more weeks…” when, as on mornings such as this one, it isn’t even 8:30 yet and I’ve already been on the receiving end of shrieks of “I’m mad at you! You have to do what I say, or I’m not going to be your friend anymore!” (Who taught the baby to talk, anyway?) or whi-iiiiiiiiines of “Why can’t I have ice cream for breakfast? I wish I was the boss of myself! No fair!”

Three more…I can make it for three more…

And when I hear some of my teacher friends sighing that the summer’s ending and that, too soon, they’ll be back in the classroom, part of me wants to hug them and murmur, “Thank you! Thank you!” in their ears. I know that come the first day, I’ll have the same pangs of missing my boys that I always do; heck, it’s Gabe’s first year of preschool, though he’s spent enough time in the gym childcare room that I don’t really think there’ll be much of a transition for either of us. I also know, though, that we’ve found an excellent balance for all our needs and interests with the kids’ schooling, and that watching Sam, and now Gabe, flourish under those wonderful teachers and amongst their peers fascinates me. We’re very fortunate to have the opportunity to use his school, and he thrives there.

So if I’m grinning a bit at those “School Supply Sale!” signs? Yep, it’s in joy at my kids’ education, of course. Nothing whatsoever to do with “Sa-aaaaaaaaaam! Stop bein’ an airplane!” “I’m not landing on you, I’m not landing on you!” That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

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