Blink! First day of school.

Summer flew, as summers fly. Robin did her “nerd camp” and then a volleyball skills camp. Josie, as promised, did “nothing,” which means she reread all the Harry Potter books and invented board games and wrote trivia questions and swam and did a kids’ triathlon and spent time with her parents and grandparents. Aaron worked on the house. I had a lull in my workflow. We all went to California to visit the west coast contingent of Aaron’s family and do some sightseeing.

In most years I’m overjoyed to get everyone (including me) back into a routine come September. I love it down to my bones, the new edge to the air, the earlier nightfall, the promise of all we’ll learn and do and feel when we get Back To It.

This year’s different. Robin’s starting high school, Josie middle school. I don’t have a child in elementary school any more. And it just seems like with the start of this school year, I’m one big step closer to their leaving me. I know, that’s as it should be. I know, it’s no more significant than any other sunrise in the inevitable march of time. I know, they were always going to leave, and I know, something would be wrong if they didn’t.

But yesterday nobody in our house was a high school student. Today, someone is. College is, like, tomorrow.

I have so little time left with them, and it’s hitting me kind of hard, just now.

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To our bus driver, on the last day of school

Dear Ben,

I am remembering Robin’s first day of kindergarten, when she was barely 5 years old, and so serious, brave and quiet, and so focused on riding that bus. Her little frog backpack was firmly in place and her little gaze so determined. You pulled to a stop at the corner, and she marched right up the bus steps as soon as the door opened! And you could have waved and gone on, but instead you said, “oh sweetie, give your Mommy a hug first. She needs one today.” You were so kind to do that. She was a little startled that she’d forgotten, and left for school happier after that hug. And oh yes, I did need one that day.

The seasons passed and every day, Josie would come to the bus stop with us to see Robin off. She’d wave at you and show you her favorite mittens (every day, all winter long) and tell you the latest news. I have no idea if you could hear much of what she babbled over the bus engine, but you always responded as if it were the most important news you’d hear all week. One day, she announced at the top of her lungs, “I’M 4! AND I’M GOING TO PRESCHOOL! AND I CAN WIPE MY OWN BUM!” and you said, “OH, WOW!” …because, well, wow.

Those have become treasured family stories, and you’ve been a treasured presence in my girls’ young lives. I know we are only one of many families who feel this way. We are so grateful. Thank you.

Have a wonderful summer. We will see each other around town, and we’ll always wave at the bus!

 

Summertime — and the living is… different.

Our first week of summer was sort of disorienting, with no particular reason to know what day it was and no specific time to have to get up or go to bed. We had a holiday weekend, a full moon, a sleepless night with Dad in the emergency room (he is fine, and more about that later), and an intense storm complete with tornado warning thrown in just to keep things feeling weird.

Robin’s first week at “nerd camp” coincided with Josie’s interlude between school and musical theater camp (lord help me), and my time between work projects. A few days adrift hasn’t been a bad thing, but now I need a new rhythm. For one thing, my nascent exercise routine will have to be nascent all over again.

While Robin had a terrific week living in a dorm, piloting an ROV, and studying “Strength of Materials” and other things, Josie had a terrific week being an only child at home. We had a shopping day and got her sneakers, socks, shorts, a new watch, and a new bike helmet. As usual, she chose “boys” sneakers and “boys” socks. She used to get all pissed off that the stuff she likes best usually says it’s for boys. If a salesperson asked if we needed help, she’d tell them exactly what she thought of it. Now resigned to society’s stupidity about gendering stuff, she just goes for the colors she wants without much grumbling. However, if there is ever a price difference between “boy” socks and “girl” socks, I have a feeling we’ll be speaking to the store manager.

We also stopped in a store called Five Below (like the Dollar Store, only everything below $5). I had never been in and was curious. Josie was up for checking it out. We went in, and each drifted around to whatever caught our eye. Pretty soon Josie was back at my elbow. “Mommy, we need to get out of here. What kind of store sells fake poop?!”

On the way home from our errands, I looked over at her in the passenger seat and thought, OK, a 6th grader. Not little anymore. Right. It’s not like I just realized how old she is, but she just did one of those jumps that kids do. Same kid… same kid… same kid… new kid. All of a sudden her little-kid-ness isn’t on the surface anymore. She’s big.

Robin just did the same thing – the teenager emerging where the big kid used to be. Not just in the sighing, in the way she says “…okayyyyyyyy…” when asked to do any little thing around the house, but in her long limbs, her posture, and the way she hugs me. She’s giving those hugs, not reaching up to indulge them. We went to the beach for July 4th fireworks. I told the girls to put on long pants and a sweatshirt. Robin came downstairs in a panic: “Mommy! All my pants are too small!” She’s grown two inches. When? When did this happen? These pants fit her a month ago. I guess that explains where the pancakes go.

I know I’m boring you. Every parent says the same stuff. But still.

In case you are still reading, I shall close with a rant about social media:

People have been Tweeting and Facebooking about Cape Cod summer holiday weekend traffic as if it is some kind of horrifying new and unforeseen phenomenon. Some of these people have brains in their heads, but they are acting like morons. It is July 4 weekend. Yes, westbound traffic on Sunday is terrible. Remember Thursday and Friday, when eastbound traffic was terrible? That was your clue that westbound traffic would be terrible Sunday and Monday.

You might as well be surprised when the sun rises every day. “OMG, look at this giant ball of fire in the sky! This picture was taken facing EAST at 5:30 AM.” Comments following: “OMG. Awful.” “When I looked, the fireball was getting HIGHER!!!” “Someone should do something about that. Giant balls of fire in the sky are just stupid.” “Thanks, Obama.” For the love of Pete, Cape Codders, knock it off. You are smarter than this.

And now to the summer schedule. Jumpstart that exercise routine, hit the lake for swimming and sailing, get in some campfires at the beach, avoid left turns when possible, lie low on weekends. Life is good!