You, Mr. Kindergartner, and I took some time yesterday after school to spend one-on-one, just you and me. I’ve been missing you since school started, not just all the hours you are away–7 hours a day/35 hours a week, but I’ve also been missing you at home. Our mornings are hectic and scheduled, so you can get to school, down the hall, backpack hung, lunchbox tucked, folders in basket and bottom in seat before the ring of the bell at 8am sharp. It has not been easy for this “easy-going in the morning” family.
Then comes after school. I’ve been picking up our neighbors’ daughter, and you adore her, so you’ve been loving it. But it feels diluted–sharing that time with someone else, managing two weary five-year-olds (plus you, lil sis at your screeching hour).
Hmmm… And then there’s the fact that so little is left of my sweet boy at 3:01 in the afternoon. You’ve worked hard. You’ve thought and considered. You’ve listened and sat still. You’ve been a good boy–purple, starred and “off the charts!” all day, and now you’re tired. With us, you’re cranky and impatient. You’re hungry and defiant. You’re exhausted–mentally, physically and emotionally, but no one can convince you of that. The expectations of school, the peer pressure of friends, the desire and determination to do well, to fit in— have all taken their toll.
And this momma feels kinda robbed. Feels like I’m giving you, my baby boy, to a school system that considers you only one of many, when they have time to consider you at all. Feels like I could smack any five-year-old toying with my boy’s sweet, compassionate lil soul. Feels like I miss my bubba, the snuggles, the energies that were once there for us.
We’ll find a balance. I hope. I pray. And yesterday, in that search for balance, we fed the ducks and geese at Shelby. Not a lot… but something. Nice.