I can’t say that I am happy now that Gunnar is back in school. And in just a week, Sawyer will be too. The mayhem of mornings is back. Lunches packed, teeth brushed, sunblock applied, everyone dressed, fed, homework in backpacks, I could go on and on and on. But I am most sad about the loss of time with them. Gunnar especially. He’s gone ALL day, well 6 hours, but when they sleep 11 and you have to eat and bathe and all the menial things, it seems like it’s ALL day.
I am going to really really really try and make the effort to walk to and from school with him. We started the year off right with walking to and from the first day. Let’s just say the walk home took FOREVER. Sawyer and Greta had to pick up every rock, every leaf, check every spiderweb for a spider. But I am realizing that I really savor those walks, whether the kids are with me or it’s just Gunnar and me.
I have also discovered something, well, not really, but I have been in denial for quite some time. But I am a control freak. I realized this when I had a little panic attack after the first morning drop off. I walked over to the volunteer tables to peruse the sign up sheets. I really wanted to downsize my time that I dedicated last year at the school. Between Room Parent, Art Docent, and the Annual Auction, along with any other celebration organizing and attending, I was spread thin. So this year, I thought, I’m going to let someone else do it.
Heavens, no! (no, I am not 80 years old, but the phrase is cool)
I saw all those sheets and contemplated another mom’s emails to me regarding things about the class and my child and field trips and volunteer times, and I about had a little anxiety attack. It’s not that I wouldn’t welcome the load being lighter and someone else stepping up to do it, but what if they don’t do it well? That’s all I could think of, what if they miss something? Or they aren’t as thorough, or my email is off the class email list? Thus, I have accepted I am a control freak. And I am having to weigh doing the work myself, or letting go.
I know when Sawyer starts Kindergarten next year I will be all over it, like I was with Gunnar. Wanting to be there as much as possible, oversee everything I can, raise as much money for the school as possible. So I wonder if this is my year to relax a little. So far, my little sign up sheet is not overwhelming. I signed 2 possible spots and depending on scheduling, I said I would do just ONE. That’s pretty good. But that doesn’t include the Room Parent job or the Auction. So I’m kind of at square one again. I just can’t decide if the anxiety is worth the work. It’s funny because my mom wasn’t like this. I cannot remember a field trip she came on, or a time she worked in the classroom. And maybe she was smart about that. Now, the kids kind of expect it of me.
Gunnar expects to run into me at random times on his way to the library or to walk in his classroom unannounced to drop off some papers to the teacher. I think this is a good thing. And I figure, one day I will probably be LIVING at the school when all 3 of them are there. Between the 3 classes I can imagine none of the schedules working out where I can spend one day jumping from class to class helping out. Nope. It will probably work out that each class needs a completely separate day. And with the 2 days I work each week, well, that’s about 5 days a week. See? My anxiety has already jumped to 3 years from now! I think they make medication for this.
It’s just I want very badly to be a fixture in my children’s lives. Education. Days. I want to know who they sit next to and the name and personality of everyone in their class. I want the children to know me like the kids do from last year. That they are happy to see me and wave when I pass by them. I am not however irritating. Well, I hope not. I am present but not pushy. The teachers so far have been comfortable with me and at ease, which is what I want the most. To be seen as not just another mom, but a friend and someone you can talk to, complain to, laugh with, and most of all tell me what they need.
So, here we go again.