Back to school we go, in a few short days. For Steve, Nathaniel, and Jordan, that day is actually today. It sort of shocks me, because in a lot of ways, this feels like the summer that never was. Like it should be closer to... oh, July 12th right now. This last spring will be called The Spring of Open Houses, the early summer will forever be referred to as The Summer of the Move, and the last two weeks, at best, will be called the time of Get It All In While You Can. (We still haven't, though.) We've been spoiled, having Steve for a couple months every summer, so this is just a little taste of what most American families deal with. A short break, and then back to the daily grind. It's not for the faint of heart, I tell you what. Kudos to you.
Parker and I will go back to daily life as we knew it before mid-June. But, in a new town and a new home, of course. Some of our old mainstays, and some new. I will definitely get the crock pot out soon, as soon as the weather turns anyway. I've already told two people, in just the last week, about bone broth. What was the occasion for it? It actually did fit into the conversation. Is fall really so close? The benefit to fall, aside from the obvious (apple cider and pulling out the winter beanies, of course) is the food. I am such a better cook in the colder months. My family would agree. Sweet potato soup with black beans, chicken noodle soup, beef stew with big chunks of carrots and potatoes. I lack motivation and energy and creativity in the summer.
Steve and I are desperately hoping the transition to new schools goes well for William and Lindsey. I think it will. I'm optimistic. But, it'll be a change. New people, a new place. They've had late night after late night, and sleeping in in the mornings. Sometimes they're not trudging down the stairs, zombie-like, until 10:00 or later. I'm starting to call them to bed closer to 10:30 now so it doesn't feel like such a shock to the system in a few days when they're needing to sleep by 10 and get out the door at 7 am. The lazy days of summer, when we've had them anyway, will be missed. The meandering coffee hour where it's just Steve, myself, Parker and his cars, and mostly quiet, rest in peace. The frenzied search for the right shirt, the slapping of peanut butter and jelly on some bread, and the exodus of kids from front doors everywhere are upon us.
My sister is sending her first to preschool this year. She doesn't want to talk about it, you can hear it catch in her voice as she quickly changes the subject. I can empathize. I remember sending William to school years ago, after he'd been homeschooled as long as I'd known him. He was so worried, it was written all over his face. I cried. And Parker? People ask me, like it's so run-of-the-mill, "so, is he going to preschool this year?" The look I return must be like they just kicked my puppy dog in the stomach. "What?! He was just born, like yesterday!" I promise I don't actually say that and I also promise that, if the time is right and the desire is there, he will go to school. But right now, I am not ready, he is not ready, and I'm shocked that he has the "look" of a kid who could be ready. Isn't he a baby still? Aren't I still an absolute necessity in every waking moment of his life? I will cry when the time comes.
Let's not cut that umbilical cord just yet, ok?
How's the back-to-school going in your neck of the woods? How's the weather? How was your summer? Did you savor it? Did it rush by? Are you excited for fall? Are you making soups yet? Is it still 100 degrees where you are? Are you sending a child to school for the first time? For the last?