First day of school (eighth grade edition)

Mark and I had the best summer ever this year. We went on vacations big and small (family wedding in St. Croix, family camping trip in Santa Barbara), and while that was part of what made summer fun, it wasn't just that. The greatness came from being together without responsibilities--there was no homework to nag about or school activities to juggle. Instead, Mark and I just hung out together, laughed and enjoyed ourselves immensely.

We spent a lot of time with our family and friends at concerts in the park or the farmer's market. We went to movies and museums. We stayed up late, lazed around the house on more than one Saturday, and spent Sundays riding our bikes or at the movies. There was nothing BIG (capital letters) that happened this summer, but somehow, all the small things added up to a pretty great few months.

I was sad to see that all end yesterday, but not as sad as Mark was.

"I can't believe summer's over," he lamented at bedtime.

"I know," I said. "I love summer."

"But you don't even get it off!" he answered. "You had to work all summer!"

"I know," I said again. "And I still had a blast." 

Mark just snorted. I was debating which was worse--not having the summer off at all, or having it off and having it end. If Mark was any judge, it was definitely the latter.

And so, I knew to tread lightly when I woke him up this morning. I used a happy, sing-song voice, I approached the kid slowly, and I didn't make any sudden moves.

"Good morning," I sang cheerfully, opening his windows. "It's the first day of school!"

Mark just grunted and rolled over.

"No!!!" he mumbled. "Not yet!"

Eventually, he did get up, got fed, and got dressed. He even posed for his yearly first day of school photo, where he holds up the number of fingers corresponding to his new grade.

"What am I gonna do in 11th and 12th grade?" he asked, staring at his hands. "I won't have enough fingers!" 

I laughed and told him to put up eight fingers. Then I stopped laughing and told him to stop flashing gang signs with those same eight fingers. (Mark loves to push my buttons more than he likes being photographed!)

I asked him to smile, then begged, cajoled, threatened, and finally gave up. Facebook was full of smiling kids on their first days of school, but Mark refused to be one of them.

"Why would I smile?" he asked. "I'm not HAPPY about going back to school!" 

And so this is what I got...maybe not the most photogenic pic, but definitely the most honest. 

Good luck, my big eighth grader! And don't mind me sniffling in the corner, I just can't believe that this is your last first day at the K-8 grade school. I can't believe that next year you start HIGH SCHOOL. Ack!  

Trust me, you won't be the only on hiding under the covers and refusing to acknowledge the start of school next year...

It's the most wonderful day of the yeeeeaaaaaarrrr...

Mark returned to school last week, a few weeks after his cousins and seemingly every other kid in California.

I thought he'd be bummed about it, but he was actually pretty excited.

"You want to go to school?" I asked, astounded.

"I want to see my friends again," he clarified. I nodded; this, I could understand.

He woke up easily the first day, dressed and was ready to go an hour early. Clearly, someone had switched out my kid during the night.

One thing he wasn't ready to do, however, was say goodbye to his kitten, even for just a few hours.

"Kitty!" he yelled, as the little orange fuzzball darted around his feet. Mark scooped him up and scratched his ears, then repeated this about 50 times. Fernando purred each time; clearly, this would be a long day apart for both boys.

"Where did my boy go?"

Mark grabbed his new backpack, obsessively brushed his freshly-cut hair to the side, and made himself the same exact lunch he ate every day last year. He was ready.

His friend Sean arrived. Before they left for school, I positioned them on the front porch, and made them hold up seven fingers, corresponding to their new grade. (I do this every year--don't know what I'm gonna do when they start 11th grade!)

They humored me for a few minutes, even getting into it and making silly faces. Then a group of their friends passed by the house, and they immediately froze up, nodding at the other boys coolly. This is the epitome of middle school; it's all fun and games until someone sees you having fun with your mom.

"Bye," the boys shouted, collecting their bags, and running for the sidewalk.

"Mark!" I called out, sternly. He sighed, turned and dragged his feet slowly back to me. 

"Have a good day," I whispered to him. I hugged him, gave him a quick kiss, and sent him on his way.

Mark had a great first day, although I'm still not quite sure what he did.

"How were your classes?" I asked during dinner.

"Fine," he said.

"Did you find them all okay?" I pushed.

"Yup."

"What's your favorite class so far?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, school just started."

"How are the other boys? Anyone do anything exciting over the summer?" I pressed.

"I. Don't. Know." he sighed, ending the conversation. "I don't ask those kinds of questions."

I stopped talking, and just looked at him, questioningly.

"Seriously, Mom, we don't talk about that stuff," he said.

Suddenly, I realized what it really means to live in the now; it's to live like a 7th grade boy, not worrying about the future (full of looming homework deadlines) or the past (what my friends did last summer--that's sooo last week). If you really want to live in the moment, talk to a 7th grader during dinner. You will learn that being present means just one thing--discussing only what's relevant at that very moment, like why we aren't
having pizza for dinner. All the other nonsense is tuned out, stocked away, unimportant.  

And so ended our meaningful conversation about the first day of school. Later on, Mark mentioned band, and that he was a little nervous about being the drummer. He also mentioned, fleetingly, in passing, and without further elaboration, that he might try out for the school's flag football team. I just nodded, knowing this was all the information I was going to get today, and mentally stored these little informational nuggets away.

Sigh...my friend Jill is right. Motherhood is not for sissies.

It's the most wonderful day of the yeaaaaaar...

I can't help singing that song or thinking fondly of that commercial on this day every day: the first day of school. Mark doesn't think it's nearly as funny as I do, and I'm guessing he's not alone (I know all the parents were signing it to their kids!)

We checked the list posted in the office last weekend to see who Mark's teacher is. There was a little girl and her mom in front of us, and the mom was looking for other familiar names in the class.

"It's all boys!" she fretted. "Here's one--Mark Dins-something. Do you know him? Is he nice?"

Without even turning around, the girl told her mom dryly, "He's standing right behind you, you know." Mark and I cracked up about that all weekend long.

Turns out Mark got a male teacher again, for the fourth year in a row. I was thrilled to have so many great male role models for my son, and I said so to my friend Edra.

"As a single mom, I'm so glad he has a man teacher," I said. Mark completely took that the wrong way, and sneered, "He's married, you know."

It took me a minute to understand what he was saying, and then I answered, "I'm not going to date him! Geez!"

I can tell Mark's growing up, because this morning, he didn't make a big deal out of his first day back. He played it all cool, and I started thinking he really didn't care. Then I noticed both boxes of new shoes out on his floor, which meant he'd thought long and hard over which shoes to wear. And he asked me (nonchalantly) to put on his new shark's tooth necklace, making sure the silver side was showing, since it looked cooler. I realized these tiny, casual acts meant he cared a lot more than he was letting on.

I manage to get a couple good fist-day-of-school photos before he ran off and ditched me.



Since this is also my fifth year walking Mark to school on the first day, I knew what to expect. I kept in step with him the whole way.

As we neared the school, I prepared for him to take off running. I smiled, and out of the corner of my mouth, said, "I want one nice picture in front of the school sign. And I want a smile. If you take a good shot, we can be done in five seconds."

Before he could argue, I added menacingly, "And if you goof around or try to run, I will make a scene and scream, 'Marky, come back! Mommy wants a picture of you by the sign!'"

He sighed and slowed his pace. He knew I'd do it, so he complied.

Then he tried to ditch me. He sped up his pace and headed toward the class without me. But I was ready for that, too.

"Mark, if you try to run, I will make you hold my hand," I said. "Then I'll yell, 'Marky, have fun in school, Mommy wuvs you!' And I'll pretend like I'm crying and hug you too much at the classroom door."

He sighed again, and again, slowed his pace. We walked to class right next to each other.

Mark couldn't wait to get to class. Just as he reached the door, I called him back.

"Have a good day," I whispered, in case any other boys were around. "I love you. Have fun!"

He smiled, glad to hit the safety of his class. He waved and ran into the class, and as the final bell rang, I shook my head and wondered how in the world I have a son in fifth grade.

Tales of a fourth grade nothing

When I awoke this morning, the air seemed a little fresher, and the sunshine a little brighter. I swear I heard birds chirping happily outside, and cheerful Disney music playing in the background. I couldn't figure out what was going on, until I heard a loud groan from the bedroom next door. I realized it was the first day of school!

Mark was not nearly as chipper as I was to see summer end. But he rallied, and was dressed, groomed and ready to go in record time. (I savored it, realizing it's the only time it'll happen this year.)


We joined the parade of parents and uniformed kids heading to school. Mark dragged his feet, and though I knew he was excited, he was also kind of sad.

"Why are you so bummed?" I asked him. "You get to see all your friends again! You'll get to play with them all day long."

"I like the play part, I just don't like the work part," he said, glumly. "I'm here to play, not to work!"

Which pretty much sums up my son's whole attitude toward life.

Kids and parents filled every inch of the playground. Mark's new teacher came out for them, apologizing for being late -- he'd just dropped his own son off at kindergarten. The kids lined up outside the door, then entered quietly, introducing themselves to Mr. P.

Once they were all in, Mr. P. invited the parents in, too. We filed in, and watched the kids fill out surveys about themselves. The kids were squished in close to each other; I counted 35 seats, all filled, and wondered how long they'd stay quiet like this.

The bell finally rang, and the parents drifted out of the class one by one. I touched Mark on the shoulder, telling him to have a good day, and he responded by immediately pulling away as though I had the plague. That little exchange reminded me why I was so happy to see him back in class (and ecstatic that he will someday have his own kids, who will be exactly like him!).

I headed off to work, cell phone turned up high, and ready for the first call of the day. I'm not sure if it will be that Mark a) "forgot" to go to the nurse at lunch, b) lost his log sheet with his lunch carb count on it, c) "forgot" to go to Kid's Club after school, or d) all of the above. But I am sure that my cell phone will invariably ring at some point today.

Ahhh, the joys of being back on our normal routine...

It's the moooooost wonderful time of the year

School started today, and I've never seen so many giddy parents!

I opened the door to walk Mark to school, and there was a whole parade marching down the street. Clusters of kids with new clothes and new backpacks shuffled slowly down the road, reluctant to reach their final destination. Behind them their parents pushed them onward. "Hurry up," they said, as the children groaned and the other parents laughed.

Even the crossing guard noticed the chipper mood. "It's like a party," she said as our group approached the cross walk.

"I think the parents are happier than the kids," one dad replied, and the crossing guard said, "I was talking about the PARENTS."

The whole school yard was filled with parents and kids. I made Mark stand in front of the school sign so I could take his picture, and I threatened him with multiple shots if he didn't cooperate. "And I'll be loud," I told him. "I'll scream, 'Take another picture for Mama! One more pose! Over here, baby!'"

He just glared at me.

"Or," I said, "You can take one quick picture and I'll leave you alone." I got the shot, and a scowl to go with it.

Mark then trudged across the playground, trying to ditch me. (I marveled at the children who actually clung to their parents--or at least stood by patiently, unembarrassed.) He couldn't find any kids alone, without parents, to play with. So he turned back around, passed me silently, and headed for his classroom.

As soon as he entered the class, the bell rang. We found his seat, complete with a Mark D. name tag, and he explored the inside of the empty desk. "Whoa, this thing is TINY!" he exclaimed. "My desk last year was thiiiiis big," he said, pushing his hands out to the edge of the table. I felt sorry for the two girls sitting on either side of him.

I waited in the class with the other parents for an extra five minutes, just to torment Mark and hear him growl, "You can go now!" I'm convinced it's his way of saying "I love you" in public, so I told him I loved him, too, and to have a good day. "Don't forget to go to the nurse and test before lunch," I said as I left, and he laid his head on the desk, dying a quiet little death by embarrassment.

All joking aside, I am grateful for him being back in school. The nurse seems really knowledgeable about diabetes, which is an immense relief. It's the scariest thing in the world to leave your kid anywhere, especially when that kid has a chronic illness and must be watched carefully. The first day of school is always a relief to me--I'm leaving him with a trained nurse on staff, and that thought is more comforting than I could ever articulate. I know my son's in good hands, medically and intellectually, and really, that's all a mom can really hope for.

That, and a picture of my scowling kid to frame and put on my desk at work...