Wednesday, August 7, 2013

Bang! Bang! Summer's dead.
My summer bubble has burst.
I haven't even got my summer on, but my poor son goes back to school at the end of the week.  My protest stand was to boycott the back to school night.  Summer went through the wash and shrunk to Barbie doll size, no, Polly Pocket size.  I think I might hate the thought of the end of summer perhaps more than he does.  We did not even go camping this year, a rite of summer that evaporated.  Well, he did go off to camp, but we were left home.  We did fly to Virginia for a trip of a lifetime, but the boys were left home.  All the grand plans in my head have gone "puff," and disappeared as a blown dandelion.  I was content in my AC and they were content in lazy days of summer playing with friends.  My enjoyment of the great outdoors has lately been confined to my little garden where the strawberries hide and pomegranates promise rubies in the fall, my own little Eden. 

Shingles pain has sapped my strength.  Energy sizzles like a fly on a bug zapper.  It is a big deal to go buy school supplies, a ritual I don't enjoy since it doesn't come with the smells of oilcloth and clay of my childhood.  I'm a slacker mom to the max who procrastinates as long as I can with "The List."  Every item checked off is a surrender to ritual and order of a school schedule that looms.  My rebellious spirit wants to deny them the extra box of Kleenex and bottle of hand sanitizer: take that you class of cold germs!   Fortunately, his older brother isn't off to school, yet.  His orientation can't be missed though because it is his freshman year of high school.  At least I can put that out of my mind, for another week.

I did do the big clean and sort where tonnage of baggage of too-small of clothes was removed by a front-loader and hauled away for donations; well, the mess got hauled out to the garage if you want to get technical with me.  Growing boys shed more skin than snakes or shells than hermit crabs or T-shirts than a car wash has rags.  If a boy wears uniforms to school, why does he still have so many clothes?...because his older brother outgrows them, and hand-me-downs  multiply faster than dust bunnies under my couch.  

I've never cried when my children went off to school. But I might this year.  Summer was too short.  I blinked, and it was gone.  I want more time with Puff the Magic Dragon.  Instead, they got their marching orders, and I feel like I am sending them off to war.  It's hard to let boys become men when you are in love with Peter Pan and want to fly to Neverland.

"There is a time for everything, a season for every activity under heaven."
Ecclesiastes 3:1

No comments:

Post a Comment