I’m starting to think I’m doing something wrong.
I’m starting to think I’m doing something REALLY wrong.
After another successful school year launch, I heartily enjoyed scrolling through Facebook friends’ back-to-school pictures and stories. Sometimes, the wee ones shed a few tears.
Sometimes it was mom. In rare instances, it was dad.
It got me thinking back to the last seven years of first days.
Not the kids.
And certainly not Fireman Joe.
In all actuality, my boys would typically march off with a simple over-the-shoulder directive as they strode through the school doors:
YOU CAN LEAVE NOW, MOM.
They couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
What the deal yo?
I am super awesome. I nag them to brush their teeth, practice their instruments and use soap after going to the bathroom.
I make them walk people to the door. I remind them to put their bikes in the garage. I tell them Jesus is looking into their hearts whenever I suspect they are lying.
Honestly. I am practically Mary Poppins with a side order of that mom from “Carrie.”
So why couldn’t they drop ONE tear? ONE little salty hint that they will miss their mom the next seven hours? Sure, all the psychologists will say I’ve raised autonomous, well-adjusted kids who have learned to flow with whatever life deals them.
Just once I’d like to know what it feels like to have a kid throw his arms around me, squeeze tight and refuse to let go because I am everything that makes them happy.
For five minutes anyway.
Then I’d peel away that kid, throw him at his teacher and skip off to Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee.
The Dunkin’ Donuts line wraps around the block for mommies-come-lately. Dump & Go kids get you through the drive-in in two minutes. Have to spend five extra minutes tending to your child’s school angst? That line is now going to cost you 20 minutes.
Talk about your meltdowns, yo.
Here’s to a great school year for all Chicago Parent kids and families – may your tears be few and your stories be plenty!