Onward to Summer

Tomorrow is the last day of school.

I have mixed feelings about this.

I'm excited for a more relaxed schedule. There will be no lunches to be made in the morning.  No rush to get dressed before the patrol line reaches our house.  No stressing over clean uniforms.  No library books to remember.  No projects consuming our Saturday afternoons.

But I'm nervous too.  I remember the desperation I felt as the minutes counted down to September last summer.  And that was when I only had three kids.  Summer is lovely for three months.  And then it's lovely when it's over and we're back to a routine.

I've also found myself a little emotional that William will no longer be a kindergartner.  I didn't feel too sentimental about sending him off in the fall because kindergarten still felt so small to me.  And the school held our hands the whole way while always tenderly referring to William's class at "the kinders". There were always exceptions to every rule for "the kinders" because, well, because they were "the kinders."

And his teacher.  Oh she was just so magical.  So wonderful I could tear up right here writing about her.  And I told her so in a much-too-lengthy farewell note and gift.  Because she's on the older side of things, I'm even more emotional about saying goodbye because I'm almost certain that the rest of my babies won't have the chance to experience her greatness as she will more than likely be enjoying retirement by then.

So after tomorrow he will just be a plain old First Grader and there will be a new Kinder sitting in the spot that once had a laminated name tag reading William N.  He could bend your ear for an hour telling you about all the amazing things that come along with being a First Grader.  I suppose I should feel thankful that I will never have a son who is anxious about moving on to the next level.  But couldn't he do his mom a favor and feel just a little bit of nostalgia about leaving the Kindergartner room?  No, he won't.  It's OK.  I'll just cry over here in the corner all by myself.

I'm sure my tears will dry up real fast when Friday morning chaos ensues and I realize they will all be home with me ALL DAY and that this will be our new normal for three months.

For the last few weeks I've had these momentary peaks of clarity about what this summer will really be like.  And that is when I promptly log on to the local Parks & Rec website to see what other activities I can sign the kids up for.

It's not that I'm trying to pawn off my kids to some volunteer t-ball coach.  It's just that I've learned, with this many kids, it's too easy for things to fall apart when there is no plan.  There has to be a plan.  Maybe not every day.  But certainly every week.

Yesterday afternoon was overcast and cold.  I was upstairs putting away laundry and Bobby was bored with his surroundings so I picked him up and put him in the bottom bunk with William and Lucy who were reading books.  Then Katherine woke up from her nap and she too wanted to join her siblings so I plopped her in the bed as well.

And there they were.  My four, on the fourth of the month, at 4 o'clock.

 

Well, when you look at it like that.  That doesn't look so bad.

Maybe this will be my thing.  Four on the Fourth at 4:00.  Remind me next month, won't you?