Confession #29: I Hate You, I Love You.

Confession #29:  I Hate You, I Love You

Parenting comes with a huge variety of emotions, that's for sure.  One second you're relaxing with a lovey-dovey six-year-old snuggler, and ten seconds later, your pre-teen with her top knot defiantly resting atop her head is staring at you....again.  For some odd reason, the way you're sitting there is offensive to her.  So instead of asking her why she's staring at you, invite her to your lap.....that's probably what was wrong all along.  She was looking for a way to spend time with you and just didn't know how to ask.  This is otherwise known as "The Events Which Occurred the Day Before School Started."

The start of a new school year brings a rush of nostalgia, appreciation for what teachers really do with your kids August-May, and a moment to reflect on the little ones you're molding and sending into the world of academia each day.  Last night I was reflecting with wine, and I woke up with the wine sweats at 2:45 a.m.  So tonight I reflect with writing.....and hope it heals my soul a little bit more and leaves me less sweaty.

Let me start with my oldest.  Tomorrow she sets foot in the school where I taught almost my whole teaching career.  She will attend classes in the same room where I taught.  She is already a mini-celebrity (in her mind) who is being watched with careful, loving eyes of so many staff members I know.  This makes me cry.  I cry because I remember seeing these parents walk in the school, escorting their eldest children, wondering....wondering....wondering.....how life could be so different from one day to the next....and now I am one of those parents.  I cry because I feel like I'm wandering....wandering...wandering....through uncharted territories.  My oldest child, the one full of kindness and creativity and school spirit, is halfway done with her public school education, and I know how fleeting these growing up years are.

Next comes my middle child.  He's the "I fly under the radar" kid.  He's smart, he's sweet, and he's obsessive and sensitive.  When we walked into his new teacher's room last night, she tilted her head to the side and said, "You must be Quinn."  I could feel his smile before I saw it.  He nodded his head and proceeded around her uh-may-zing classroom with its stations.  At that moment, I decided I wanted to be in 4th grade, too.  I know that on the last day of school, I'll cry because our family loved her so much....and I hope she cries because she loved teaching him.  I know she's going to make him feel special each and every day because she already did the day she met him.  As we walked away from her room, he said to me, "How did she know I was Quinn?"  And to be honest, I don't know how she knew his name, but she knew....and that's all that mattered in that moment.

Lastly, my self-confident, seriously studious third child.  The one with charisma and charm and drama and #nofilter.  I see this six-year-old with a different set of eyes than I saw my oldest at her age.  This child merely attends school so one day she can rule the world.  Each day she goes to school, I know she tries her hardest, and with that comes a sensitive little heart.  I love knowing she will be adored by her teacher.....and she will feel the same way about her.

With all these feelings, I love to see the school year start, but I hate it too.  Gone are the days of sleeping 'til your body wakes you up, not the alarm.  Gone are the days of the door to the garage slamming 100 times as the kids play in and out of the house all hours of the day.  Gone are the days of late night, front porch sitting and chatting.

I have loved these days.....and I hate that they are slipping away so quickly.  I wasn't quite ready for this, even though my three little treasures sure are.  Their shoes are ready. Their clothes are ironed.  Their backpacks are loaded.  Their eyes ready to close on the night to awake in the morning eager for new beginnings.  And I love them even more for it all.....