I’ve turned into a mouth-breather

Why?  Because of my sometimes-fall allergies which don’t care that it’s still August.

It does seem like autumn already, though.  Our sunshine is weak and overpowered by low clouds every morning.  It rained hard yesterday.  Or was that the day before?  When we drop by the pool, only a few others are swimming and I wear a sweatshirt while I sit poolside.

Tonight, after work I attended two school Open Houses.  I’ve sent three children to the Primary school before and so this is my fourth child.  The PTA moms don’t know me because my son’s been out of that school for two years.  Yet, I refused to accept their folder because I’m not going to join the PTA.  Let someone else have that fun.  I put in my time years ago.

My daughter met her teacher, a fabulous, friendly, tall, pretty mom of twin babies.  I offered to give her my private stash of Lincoln Logs and she gladly accepted my offer.  (I tried to sell that at a garage sale, but no one wanted to buy them.)  My daughter will turn six the day before she starts kindergarten.  I’m so glad she missed the cut-off last year–because last year at this time, she expressed how much she hated school and would never, ever go.  This year, she is excited and ready for action.

Then we drove to the other school, she and I, to meet my son’s teacher.  My son was at football practice, but I met the teacher, assessed her and asked her a bunch of questions.  I think she’ll be a good teacher based on my fact-finding mission.  I just want her to adore my son as much as I do.  How can she not?

One more day and my son heads to school.  My daughter starts kindergarten next week, on Wednesday.  My teenagers will start whenever their curriculum arrives.  (Should be within days.)  We’re doing independent homeschool this year, rather than affiliating with a virtual school.  This will be our fifth year doing school at home, the teenagers and I.  They went to public school through fifth grade, but weren’t thriving and so, for a variety of reasons, we pulled them out of school, thus ruining my chance to ever enjoy having all my children GO AWAY to school during the day.

For the first time in 15 years, though, I will not have a child aged five or younger with me at home during the day.  I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry.  (Okay, I am sure.  I will laugh with glee!  Two and a half “free” hours every morning!)

And yet, I know I will cry like a baby when I leave her at school that first morning.