September 1, 2008, Labor Day, a day to reflect on the end of the short summer and the long school year that lies ahead. On August 25th Connor started his first day of second grade. Casey began her sophomore year. And Patrick became a full fledged senior.
That Monday morning Patrick and Casey left for school at 6:45; Connor doesn’t even wake up until 7:00. After dropping Connor off at 8:00 I returned home to get ready for my back to school lunch date. On the first day of school, a group of ladies go out for a nice lunch. For some it’s a celebration; for others it’s a support group. For me it was both. I celebrated Connor’s return to school. I mourned what my precious Casey will be introduced to in the year ahead. And I began to cry as I tried to tell a friend where Patrick is thinking about going to college.
Thursday night we attended our first football game. My dad and I traveled from Porter to the opposite side of Houston to see the game. If you’ve ever driven across Houston you can appreciate how far that really is. My dad was impressed by how well our team fared in its new 5A district. Personally, I barely even watch the game—I’m a band mom.
When halftime arrived, I left the safety of the visitor side and hiked over into enemy territory. It’s the only way to see the band march without having to watch their backsides. I got to see my Casey march for the first time as she had successfully earned herself a marching spot. I watched as Patrick nobly sidestepped across the field, trumpet held at attention. It was my second time to cry this school year.
The class of 2009 will always hold a special place in my heart. It marks the end of an era, and the beginning of a new and exciting life for my son. Nevertheless I look forward to what will be a painful and difficult time in my own life as I learn to let go and let God. With that said I close my laptop and grab a tissue as I begin to cry for the third time this school year.
Addendum: on a lighter note, week one of school is passed and Connor has only been reprimanded once for talking in the hall. Here’s how the conversation went…
Connor: Mom, I made a mistake at school today.
Me: Oh?
Connor: Yeah, I was accidentally talking in the hall, so I got a note.
Me: What kind of note?
Connor: I had to write what I did wrong TWO TIMES! And sign it. You have to sign it too.
Me: Well, did you learn your lesson? Do you know why you had to write the note?
Connor: Yes, I understand completely. The reason they make you write the note is so that you will be severely humiliated and you won’t do it again.
Me: (Cracking up) well, are you sufficiently humiliated?
Connor: Yeah, I guess so.
Me: Good…don’t do it again.
That Monday morning Patrick and Casey left for school at 6:45; Connor doesn’t even wake up until 7:00. After dropping Connor off at 8:00 I returned home to get ready for my back to school lunch date. On the first day of school, a group of ladies go out for a nice lunch. For some it’s a celebration; for others it’s a support group. For me it was both. I celebrated Connor’s return to school. I mourned what my precious Casey will be introduced to in the year ahead. And I began to cry as I tried to tell a friend where Patrick is thinking about going to college.
Thursday night we attended our first football game. My dad and I traveled from Porter to the opposite side of Houston to see the game. If you’ve ever driven across Houston you can appreciate how far that really is. My dad was impressed by how well our team fared in its new 5A district. Personally, I barely even watch the game—I’m a band mom.
When halftime arrived, I left the safety of the visitor side and hiked over into enemy territory. It’s the only way to see the band march without having to watch their backsides. I got to see my Casey march for the first time as she had successfully earned herself a marching spot. I watched as Patrick nobly sidestepped across the field, trumpet held at attention. It was my second time to cry this school year.
The class of 2009 will always hold a special place in my heart. It marks the end of an era, and the beginning of a new and exciting life for my son. Nevertheless I look forward to what will be a painful and difficult time in my own life as I learn to let go and let God. With that said I close my laptop and grab a tissue as I begin to cry for the third time this school year.
Addendum: on a lighter note, week one of school is passed and Connor has only been reprimanded once for talking in the hall. Here’s how the conversation went…
Connor: Mom, I made a mistake at school today.
Me: Oh?
Connor: Yeah, I was accidentally talking in the hall, so I got a note.
Me: What kind of note?
Connor: I had to write what I did wrong TWO TIMES! And sign it. You have to sign it too.
Me: Well, did you learn your lesson? Do you know why you had to write the note?
Connor: Yes, I understand completely. The reason they make you write the note is so that you will be severely humiliated and you won’t do it again.
Me: (Cracking up) well, are you sufficiently humiliated?
Connor: Yeah, I guess so.
Me: Good…don’t do it again.
