School Drop-Off Through Rose Colored Glasses

This morning, with my husband away on business, I had the honor of dropping off our oldest at school.  This is a rare thing for me, as typically I get to stay home in the morning and eat bon bons.  Pffft.

Actually, those few mornings where I am solely responsible for getting both kiddos out on time for school are always stressful for me.  They shouldn’t be, but they are.  All my mothering inadequacies bubble up to the surface, demanding I take a good hard look at them.

Today, though, was like a fine tuned symphony.  The little guy slept in, which hasn’t happened since both boys started sharing a bedroom.  The big guy moved from task to task without complaint.  Can you imagine asking once for teeth to be brushed and feet to be shod and it happens? We walked out of the door right on time, which, for me, is only a few minutes late.

The boys were chatty as we drove through the familiar city streets.  The sun was shining after a day of chilly rain.  My mood was brightened by a thread from my blog’s Facebook page where I asked readers to post something hopeful.  Turns out, despite all the ick, there is still so much to be hopeful for and about these days.

drop-off

As we pulled up to the street close to my son’s school, I hopped out to help him get out of the car and give him a quick hug and kiss. There is no drop-off lane or any provisions, really, for kiddos to get out of their folks’ cars, and the street in front of the school is closed off for buses.  We typically pull over about a half block away and I watch my boy as he makes his way to the entrance. Occasionally he asks for me to park and walk with him, but with the little one, that’s never an easy thing to do.

Today my older boy raised his cheek up to my lips for his last morning kiss and I realized how tall he is getting.  He skipped across the street and yelled, “I’ll be brilliant and kind, Mama!,” my typical sign off for him as he starts his school day.  Only today I had forgotten. But clearly, the message has been imprinted.

I watched him run to the school’s door, his backpack flapping behind him. Running.  To.  School.

I know things might not always be this way.  I know there will no doubt come a time when school is not a place that is adored and beloved for him. Heck, there are days like that now.  Gratefully, they are few and far between.  Today is a good day.  Despite the hassle of school drop-off (You know all those lanes so many of you complain about where, without fail, some parent up ahead makes a point of screwing up and dawdling each and every day?  I would kill for one of those.), I am parenting a boy who loves to learn, is in an excellent public school, and looks forward to seeing his classmates and teachers.  So many blessings.

I have been struggling to find hope these days, and choosing to hope has been harder and harder.  Call me a “precious snowflake” or a “libtard” if you must, but I worry.  I am worried.  Thank goodness for a moment of joy, a moment of gratitude, a moment where the only thing that mattered was a little boy and his backpack running to school, running to learn, running to be with friends, and all of the excitement that held for him.

I needed that.

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