A Day In My House

My least favorite thing about back-to-school is… (drum roll) having to pack lunches.

For the past two years, I can count on one hand the number of times Andrew has packed. This year, he’s packed twice, and it is only the 5th day of school. Josh has also packed twice in his 3 days of school. For Josh I am little more lienient due to him being a slow eater. So time not spent in line getting his food is time saved for him to eat.

Nevertheless, I am quickly growing to loathe this entire process:

• Buying extra foods to have on hand for them to pack.
• Negotiating what they can/can’t take. (Peanut butter is obviously out due to Andrew’s allergy. He only likes ham. Not cheese, not turkey. For Josh, I have to steer him away from eating cheese for lunch every single day.) (And I should note, this falls within a couple of hours of having just gone through the dinner routine where most of the time they complain about the food served them, so adding one more stress on that already thread-bare nerve of mine is risky.)
• Making their lunches prior to the bedtime routine (so, cook dinner, clean up, help with homework, have a small break of free time, then pack lunches, give baths, get them in bed – it seems nonstop).
• Assembling their lunches in the morning after breakfast (gathering cold items from fridge, get their ice pack and put everything together and put it by their back pack, then go help them get ready for school)

$2.50 seems a small price to pay to offset this extra work; Where most parents want to save money and only allow them to buy once a week, for example, I may very well fall on the other end of that spectrum, allowing them to pack only once a week.

Either way, though I cannot control what they actually consume of either their bought or packed lunch. Hunger will have to be their guide.

I don’t think I can pack my days any fuller now that kids are back in school. I’ve been squeezing every last minute out of my time while they are both at school, trying to fit everything in now before I return to work next week.

We were out of town over the weekend visiting Bob’s family. But back to the week we go with Monday morning (I hit snooze a few too many times). Shopping plus lunch with a friend, and repeat tomorrow, different friend.

I admit my anxiety level was higher today than it was on Josh’s first day of school (today was his second day due to staggered start for kindergarteners). The fact that while in line for the bus, he stepped one step over to me to hug my leg, only amplified my feelings. While sadness overlooked my morning, I have to remind myself the same advice I would give him were we having an actual conversation about his adjustment to kindergarten: Let’s just take it one day, or even one hour at a time.

They will be home in a few short minutes.

A late in the day post for the first day back to school. The report? A success on all fronts.

I enjoyed a 2nd breakfast with a friend who was then kind enough to spend the lion’s share of the day with me shopping for clothes.

Andrew was a responsible big brother, standing in the hall watching to see Josh make it two doors down to his kindergarten class.

Josh commented that “it is SO tiring there,” but loved riding the bus and seemed to enjoy his day. Andrew enjoyed music. Josh enjoyed a tour of the principal’s office (with his class on a tour or scavenger hunt of some sort.) Josh enjoyed his first time in gym.

A good day.  And a good day to have behind us.

• In the past two days I found that Andrew & Josh got along much better when they were pretending Josh was a dog.
• Josh, after losing a dime from spare change I gave him yesterday, not only asked if I would give him another one, but if I would make it a $10 dollar bill, instead of 10 cents. I almost feel compelled to honor his request for his sheer audacity in asking. But, no.
• Andrew stops in his tracks for car commercials. Josh stops in his tracks for Scotch tape commercials, the pop-up dispenser ones.
• I’ve recently found myself telling friends that I could easily see Josh becoming a rocker when he grows up. He loves to listen to music loud. (Recently, Bob told a story of when Josh was in my car with him, the two of them alone.  Bob was cranking up my sound system, as he can only do when I’m not in the car. So the music is already loud, and Josh hollers from the back seat, “Turn it up!” [Although what Bob heard, was "Come on old man, turn it up louder!])
• I’ve also recently found myself following up the “he could be a rocker” comment with, he could also grow up to be a preacher. He has no qualms with telling Andrew, flat out, “You’re Wrong!” I suspect he feels like telling us the same thing at times, but he also (rightly) feels he can’t talk to us that way. He retells Bible stories frequently. He seems to ponder God a lot, and not in the quesitoning way, rather in the matter-of-fact way.
• Andrew’s brain functions in a way that he has to comment on immaterial things, all the time. Especially if the normal routine is changed, he seems to analyze it out loud as his way of adjusting to the change. If only I could give you examples, but to do so would require me to carry around a tape recorder because no amount of recollection from my brain can do this justice. Yesterday, after just one such scenario, I commented to Bob that Andrew couldn’t help himself. And that he would make an excellent sportscaster some day. Bob replied with the thought that, yes, Andrew could fill dead air with the best of them.
• I can see a maturing independence in Andrew’s 7-year-old self. It brings me both pride and reflective poubtyness.

I’ve been slowly moving up our wake up times, both of the boys and myself in order to readjust to school schedules. Last week, I got up at 6:45 then 6:20 consistently. And today, here I am been up for  a whopping 20 minutes, since 5:45 a.m.

It hasn’t been as hard I as I thought, actually. And I’m hoping for the same with Josh, who values his sleep like he does his stuffed animals.

Meanwhile, there are 10 more days until school starts. Ten! We are all getting excited, albeit for different reasons.

I feel a sense of “nesting” coming over me, needing to get things organized and arranged, ready to welcome 2 kids and their book bags filled with papers and forms and homework each night.

I am sure Josh has some nervousness about starting kindergarten, maybe subconsciously. But I have anxiety on his behalf. Hoping he eats enough of a protein breakfast to get him through until lunch. Hoping he actually eats, and quickly enough, his lunch at school. And as my husband pointed out, hoping he doesn’t choose to entertain the built-in audience he’ll have at the lunch table over eating his lunch. Hoping he can grow to more easily express himself and not stammer for words as he sometimes can when he is overly excited or upset. Hoping he remembers to zip his zipper after visiting the restroom. Because, he usually doesn’t. Hoping that when he visits the restroom that he can break his habit of camping out in there making funny faces in the mirror for an eternity.

I’m not sure what anxieties he may have, hopefully none more than comes with meeting new people. I’ll be happy to bear these hopes in hope of coaching him towards his goal so he can just be him (only a zipped up, eat your lunch quickly, don’t dilly dally in the restroom, version of him).

Yesterday I witnessed two sides of a coin in reference to my kids’ behavior.

One minute, I’m separating them, declaring in my motherly tone, “THIS is why I don’t let the two of you play together. You don’t know how to get along!”

The next minute, (well after a while of them being separated) they gravitated back to each other, peacefully. Often they like to trade rooms and play with each other’s toys. I walk upstairs to see why they are so quiet and find Josh playing cars in Andrew’s room (on his wood floor which makes them roll so much better as opposed to Josh’s carpet). And I find Andrew playing Legos in Josh’s room (being the Lego-lover that he is, he is happy to accept playing with different Legos in lieu of new Legos.)

This room-trade eventually morphed into playing together, starting with a dance mix cd (Radio Disney Move It!) Josh got for Christmas a couple of years ago. He loves dance-type songs and he loves it loud. So they turned that on and jammed and danced. Loudly.

After that I quit paying attention, not to mention I had the office door closed so I could concentrate on what I was working on. But for the rest of the afternoon, which seemed to be hours, they played nicely – a welcomed change.

I don’t know who was more affected by my sons camping out in a tent in the backyard with my husband over the weekend. They were ecstatic. They were looking forward to it so much. They couldn’t wait until bedtime (whenever it got dark). They slept wonderfully.

I, on the other hand, was anxious and edgy and didn’t find it easy to fall asleep with 3/4 of my family (rather, 3/4 of my heart) outside asleep in a tent in the back yard. I had nobody to kiss or tuck in when I went to bed (two hours later than when I tucked them in at the tent’s door) or when I got up in the night.

In spite of the fact that I was the only one on an actual bed, warm and cozy in the house, I think I slept the worst of us all. (Except for maybe my husband, who gave the two sleeping bags to the boys and himself, took blankets.  As a result, he froze after about 2 a.m. due to a low of 60 degrees.)

While my youngest will start all-day kindergarten in a month, I’m already anticipating this new stage of our lives… parenting school-aged children. Granted Andrew is entering second grade and I’ve already been parenting one school-aged child, but ramping up to have both of them in school, all day, is clearly a new phase. I will no longer have one foot in the young-child-at-home door.

With a young child at home, you still run errands with a child in tow. You are called upon to help entertain them when their boredom seems insurmountable. You snuggle. You lunch together. You have a young companion for most of your day.

Gears will shift once school starts and the youngest joins the ranks of the older brother. (I won’t even go into the challenges this all-day schedule will have on my non-morning-person child.) But my day will be profoundly changed. I will have two children to wake and ready for school which will equate to a morning bustle of activity. I will then have solitude and quiet for about six and a half hours. Then I will have two children to anxiously await getting off the bus to tell about their school day. I will have two snacks ready when they come in the door. I will have two book bags full of folders and papers to sort through. Two schedules and due dates and projects to manage.

It seems like not such a big deal. That span of time in between sending them off to school and welcoming them home in the afternoon. But it will, in fact, be a big deal. For their 5 years leading to kindergarten, my husband and I have been their  major influence. A few hours at church each week and even a few hours a week for two years of preschool pale in comparison to all-day school, five days a week.

They will have teachers and friends and peers surrounding them for 6.5 hours instead of me. They will encounter new situations and emotions which they will learn how to manage, on their own, or with those around them, instead of me.

For these children whom I carried in my womb, who have been the focus of the past 7 years, whom I’m the expert in (along with my husband)… For my precious children, that imaginary umbilical cord will grow a little longer as they step out into school. I will still oversee their lives, still nurture and coach and teach and guide, all while allowing them a little more wiggle room.

Sometimes we look at our circumstances and fail to see them for what they are. Something new and potentially good comes along and we think, “is this?”, “should I?”, or “what am I supposed to do?”.

We often let our fears and insecurities and doubts overtake our thoughts crowding out the part that is clearly yelling, “isn’t this exactly what you asked for? prayed for? thought was impossible?”

Quiet the doubts. Let go of the fears. Claim confidence. Embrace the opportunity. And give thanks.

There is something to be said for people coming together. I recently watched a video of  a mob flash dance (or a flash dance mob or a flash mob dance- whatever you call it). One by one, or a few by few, people jump out of a crowd to start a choreographed dance, increasingly adding more people as the song plays on.

I also recently watched the movie, Avatar. There is a scene where the innumerable blue people are sitting, arms-locked, around the base of a tree, “praying” to Eywa (mother earth) for help fighting the sky people. The scene is somewhat breathtaking as the camera captures an overhead view.

Groups of people coming together for a (good) common goal almost always makes me tear up. I can’t explain it. It is just pleasing and awe-inspiring to see people join together for a good and pure cause. (Even with a fictional story and not condoning the blue people’s prayer to a fake God, still the essence of the scene is not lost.)

Closer to home, it is just as pleasing when people gather together, say in our neighborhood, for food and conversation, a little poking fun, but most of all – community.

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As a side note to Avatar, which this post is not about, I find these illuminated seeds from the secret tree to be glorified dandelion seeds. But now I can’t think of dandelion seeds the same way I used to.