School starts Thursday. And my 9-year old will be going, but alas, my almost 5-year old will not and neither will my 14-year old twins. High school at the virtual academy (not to be confused with pretend academy) starts on September 17. (SEPTEMBER 17?!) My soon-to-be 5-year old misses the cut-off date for kindergarten by a day–never-mind that she is emotionally unprepared for kindergarten as separation from me still troubles her–and she’s going to participate in a preschool-like thing but not until the middle of September or later.
And this brings me to admit that I wish I were one of those mothers who gets to ship off the kids to school each day and then Have Some Time. I want to have some time! I want to have five or six hours that I divide into little segments devoted to work and play. But no! I’m not one of those mothers! I am NEVER ALONE and IT’S KILLING ME, one tiny bone in my ear at a time. (They shatter, you see, from the constant drone of noise in my house. Stress fractures of the teeny ear bones, a little known hazard of stay-at-home mothering.)
Well, okay, not never. My husband sends me out of the house on Saturdays, unless other things interfere. And so last Saturday I left at noon and returned at 6 p.m. but it’s not the same as sending the kids to school every day. That’s the life I thought I would have when I envisioned myself as a mother. My own mother had a small circle of friends. They had a moms-only secret life when we were at school. I’d come home to find remnants of a Crafts Day spread out in the family room or maybe a stack of coffee mugs and crumbs on a pretty plate.
My mother had friends and she had time to see them during the day while we went to school.
I want friends and time to see them during the day while my kids are in school.
But my teenagers aren’t going to go back to school, public or otherwise. School-at-home suits their needs and I do think it’s the best option open to us. So, it’s not like I’d choose any differently, even though the personal cost to me is great. This is a sacrifice I’m willing to make.
One day my house will empty out and I’ll run errands by myself during daylight hours. And, if my current behavior is any indicator of the future, I’ll probably be complaining then, too.
* * *
Click here and make me happy. (That’s my other blog, you know, the one that pays me more money the more readers I have.)