It’s the first week of school and if you were wondering, I didn’t cry. I have yet to shed a tear when sending my kiddos back to school, and for awhile I assumed the worst about myself. I don’t love my kids as much. I like being without them. I was born without a soul. This year, I realized why I don’t get blubbery….I am happy for them to be with other people. And thankfully, so are they. I have never had a problem leaving them with grandma or calling in a babysitter for a date night. These rugrats have been chilling with cooler people than me since they were rockin’ newborn nighties. (Those are my favorite and I want one in an adult size, cinched bottom and all) It’s good for them and it’s good for me.
When my oldest went off to preschool (which feels like last week, but was really 7 years ago) she bolted from the car and didn’t bother to say goodbye. It didn’t worry me. She has always been a social butterfly and I knew she was aching for some companionship that didn’t include me. I may or may not have peeled away from her school squealing with joy at having 90 minutes alone. While my youngest wasn’t that eager, he hasn’t leached to my leg or required handcuffs on the first day of school. Personally, I’m a fan. Nothing wrong with those of you who find yourself a bit teary eyed when your kids strap on their new Angry Birds backpack and roll out to kindergarten, but I don’t do it and I have finally accepted that that’s okay, too. Granted, I have not registered my kid for junior high or watched one of them graduate high school, but the first day of school is one of my favorite days of the year. Right up there with Christmas morning and my birthday. It’s my favorite picture (combed hair, clean clothes), my favorite cup of coffee (alone, for the first time in three months), my favorite yoga session (without children screaming about who had the remote control first), my favorite computer time (sans “Let’s watch that grumpy cat picture again, please!!!”) and my favorite afternoon with kids who come tumbling in the door with smiling faces and stories about the kid who farted all afternoon.
My summer admission is this….we didn’t hit most of the places on our summer bucket list. Our schedule went down the tubes when we signed up our oldest for a drama class and I found myself taxiing her around five days a week. I had the same feeling that our youngest apparently did. “How long do we have to be in the car today? Like forever?”
We did take a hike to Deseret Peak and we drove up to the Air Force base, but most of our summer turned out to mimic most other summers, except I didn’t have a “real” job. Which was awesome. We watched cartoons, made a slip and slide out of visqueen, barbecued, played outside, went to the pool and slept past 7:30 am. That last one was my favorite. While I was sad that we didn’t hit everything on our list, I have faith that my kids had a great summer and so did I. Some of our biggest achievements over the last three months included; not getting sunburned to the point of sickness, finally hanging out at the “lake” that is a short bike ride away from our house and eating snow cones the size of a camp trailer. Speaking of camping, my kids were able to do that, too. A big thanks to my dad and my sister, because I don’t camp. I feel about camping the way most people feel about a pap smear. Really? I have to be that uncomfortable again? Didn’t I just do that last year? All in all, a successful summer. I didn’t get much real work done so basically…winning at summer life.