Every year, at the end of the summer, I'm grateful for the return to routine that school brings. The carefree laziness of summertime--even though I've worked more in the summer for the past three years than I do during the school year--is fantasticly relaxing, and I do wish that summer break would last long past the school years. After a while, though, it gets old for me. I find myself beginning to long for the regularity of a Monday through Friday routine, homework, and, especially, the cooler weather and fall colors.
My kids have been in school for two weeks now, but my summer job only just ended yesterday, so I haven't had time yet to revel in the routine. Instead, I've been in the midst of a crazy schedule; half the time not much caring if I'm coming or going. Down to one job now, you'd think I'm ready for some rhythm and reason.
Yet I find myself on the edge of my seat for the new routines this year will bring. And bracing myself for the brakedown so many of my friends have already experienced. When the new team schedules start next week, along with a new work schedule to fit in, and band, and everything else, I'm pretty sure I'm going to realize just how much I depended on my college freshman for a slice of sanity.
In the past, I've been prone to meltdowns. Actual, embarrassing minutes of literally puddling the floor with tears, snot and a curled up ball of me. Turns out, there was quite a bit of pent up emotion completely unrelated to transporting my kids behind those outburst (yeah, really, I did not realize that! ha!), and recent lifestyle changes have eliminated the band of tightness that always seemed to constrict my heart.
I do wonder, though, if that first time I have to drop everything and go, because I pushed ever-so-slightly past where I should have, if I will revert to my old self. The self I unloaded in Florida, intending never to look back. Give me two weeks, and I should be fine. Once I get past the settling in.
Until now, I've kept so busy I've been able to avoid thinking about missing him, but I do. I miss him shaking his head at his brothers, and the way he understands just what one of them is doing to make me widen my eyes--the silent exchanges we would often have while making dinner. He would make me nuts sometimes, too, but then he'd make me laugh. I'm glad he's doing his thing--and that he's quite willing to 'chat' with us through texts. He's enjoying himself, making friends, making memories, making his life. I'm proud of him!
For now, I'll keep my trepidation on the table. I've learned that keeping it inside only makes for personal pain. Over the next few weeks, the "getting used to the routine" weeks, I'll share each of my frustrations with each of my family members, and, hopefully, the outcomes will continue to be more positive than before.
No, not hopefully--they will be, because I have determined the direction of this story. Bring it on.
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