In Which She Rambles...

I know I complained a few days ago about the homework goings-on around here. I guess we are all trying to make that transition back to the world of schedules, practices, alarm clocks, and yes, homework. It is a far cry from the lazy hazy days of summer. Especially this year. Connor is in the 4th grade and has the same teacher that Jamie had 2 years ago (well, of course he does there is only one class of each grade at their school!). Well, she is the queen of homework. Luckily, she also happens to be one of those teachers that every child deserves to have at least once in their lives. She is FABULOUS, but it is a huge adjustment to be in her class. Then, in her talk to the 4th grade parents she explains to them what a huge transition this is for 4th graders and how it is a transition second only (in this school) to the one made in 6th grade. At which point she looked back at me and mouthed a pitiful "sorry" because she knows Jamie just started 6th grade.
So, what does this all mean? Well, obviously everyone around here has been a bit overwhelmed and cranky. It also means, though, that they are really blessed to be in a fabulous school with teachers who genuinely care deeply about them as people and as students. They are learning, thriving, and growing mentally, physically, and spiritually. So, why one earth would a mother be melancholy? Simply put it would be because they are growing up. It is however, more complicated than that.
This reality of a new school year is always a glaring reality check that they are growing up. And, the return of the hectic schedules is a time ripe with regrets. Why didn't I take better advantage of their, our, free time in the summer? Are there a million moments that I could have made special that I let slip away so that I could have a cleaner bathroom or more organized refrigerator? Did I leave them with any memories? Did I ask them to quiet down when I should have been laughing with, or at, them instead? Will they only remember how I was forever nagging them and their friends to not just drop the water bottles/cups wherever they finished them? At the close of every summer I pledge to to do better next year. But, when do the "next years" run out? For heaven's sake, Paige was posting high school graduation pictures of her son that I remember (not that long ago) as a charming boy younger than Jamie is now! I suppose that all parents have these doubts and quandaries, but when I am the one having them I can't help thinking that everyone else is constantly making these "postcards of the heart" moments while I am busy making beds and trudging through the inevitable day-to-day.
So, once again I promise myself, and all else who have read this far, that I will make more of an effort. I will work harder to make my own "postcards of the heart" before the innocence of childhood has given way to the demands of adolescence and adulthood.