Obama's speech is NOT the main thing most moms are thinking about today

Big sis' and 2nd-grader Claire supporting Phoebe on her first day of kindergarten.

Sept. 4, 2009

As most kids are back to school today, we are slowly getting back to blogging over here at Moms Without Blogs. Today's post is from one of our hardcore MWOBS, Kath, who I have known since we were nine years old. As I read this piece, I got tears in my eyes as I often do when reading her because her words most always resonate deeply within me. Probably because we are cut from a similar cloth.  

My second baby, Phoebe, started kindergarten last Thursday. My heart did similar and different backflips of emotions as I watched another kid of mine take her place on the kindergarten carpet in a circle of strangers knowing full well some of these strangers would become her best friends. (and if she's lucky, one of them will be a lifelong friend like Kath is to me.) 

So the buzz du jour is certainly Obama's speech on education to the kids of America, but over here, all I can say is I'm psyched that Kath has written about what's really going on in most of our mama hearts today as we watch our babies take another step on their journey in the world. 

Written by Kath

It’s officially back to school time for everyone but we've been back to school for weeks here in sunny Arizona. I think it’s someone’s cruel joke to make kids return to school in mid-August. Picking up your children at 3 pm when the temperature exceeds 105 degrees (WITH humidity, I might add) is pure torture. 

The eve before the big “first day” I stood in the doorway of my boys’ room. I took in their over-stuffed backpacks, zippers strained from new crayons, pencils, notebooks, and glue. I saw the new tennis shoes, gleaming and clean (for the last time!) awaiting new adventures this school year. The uniforms were washed and hanging in the closets, the new socks neatly folded in the drawers. I sighed, and couldn’t help but feel, well…sad. Something was bugging me because I felt a little dread about the next day.

As we walked on campus that next morning, you could see the moms and dads had an extra spring in their step. It reminded me of that “Staples” commercial. You know the one, where the dad skips around the store to the tunes of the Christmas song “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” He’s dancing through the isles, throwing school supplies into his cart in glorious anticipation of the return to school. Yep, most parents I saw that morning had that same giddy expression on their face. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I just felt, well sad. What the heck was up with that??

In the days since that first day, I’ve tried to make some sense of this sadness. Why am I not like the other parents? I should be thrilled that my kids are back in school, why aren’t I?

I keep remembering a conversation I had with my dear Irish father after I had my first child. He told me that the world is a “magnet.” “When you’re pregnant or your child is a baby, they are as close to you as they ever will be,” he said. “But gradually, the world pulls them away, little by little, until they are grown.”

At the time, the words were sweet, but I just couldn’t comprehend them. I mean, my nipples were cracked and bleeding from being “so close” to my son. He wanted to nurse non-stop. I was longing for a little magnet pull of the world to create a little distance.

But now, I think, I get it. I’m sad this time of year, because I’m feeling that pull. School reinforces the pull of the world to me. During the summer, my kids are mine. Each and every day, I have them. We relax in our PJs, go to movies, swim, take vacations. They are all mine, and although they can sometimes get on my nerves, I truly and absolutely love it.

When school starts (and all the activities that go with it), I sort of “lose” my kids. They spend more time at school and activities than they do with me. And my heart hurts. Oh, I know, it’s good for them to go to school, to learn, to be active. They are growing up. I understand.

But my heart just can’t. Children are little for such a short amount of time. Those first 5 years go by like the blink of an eye. Then that magnet world really starts to pull.

I know that in a few months, this sadness will be gone. I will enjoy watching my children learn new things at school. My heart will burst with joy as I cheer them on at their activities. They will grow and change and develop and all will be good. 

But for today, I’ll embrace the sadness a little.

As we walked around school the first day, many of the parents asked when my daughter would be starting kindergarten.

“Next year,” I said.

“Wow! Only one more year to go!” they’d remark with that look that says “hang in there” to the other parent.

Yep, ONLY one more year to go. I’ll cherish every moment of it.

No longer waiting to exhale.

Written by Em

With all due respect to Oprah (well, not really - lately, girlfriend has been sitting on my last nerve) I had an incredible "ah ha" day this past weekend.

It all began with a little impromptu driveway playtime with our neighbors. Sweat-headed Youngest (3) stumbled over to the chatting adults and requested his sippy. I politely gave him the usual response "one minute, baby." He then ran back to join the fun. I proceeded to get caught up in grown-up talk and completely forgot.

Nice mama.

About 10 minutes later I look over and Youngest is chugging out of his Precious. What the hey?

Turns out Oldest (6) ran inside and got waters for both of them.

I swear to you the clouds parted and angels sang. I'm pretty sure I wept.

Oldest is a helper, a doer, a pleaser, but an initiator? This is a new slice of personality that I find fascinating. Not to mention somewhat freeing.

Later, my brother and his family came over for a little pool action. My sweet SIL is just days away from having their fourth and final (!?) child. I'm running around, trying to get hotdogs on the grill and cupcakes iced, when I look over and see Oldest washing an apple.

I decide to observe from the fringe.

He digs out a plate. Said apple is placed on the plate, along with two handfuls of blueberries and a couple slices of watermelon. He then heads to the outside table, and starts to eat his lunch.

Harps, people. I am talking full-on Alleluia Choir.

There are so many aspects of being a mom that I adore, but if kids could pop out of the womb, say maybe at, at least three years old (ouch, right?), I would have a baker's dozen of these little suckers. Already binkie weaned, sleep trained and house broken? How awesome would that be?!

Then again, if Hubs and I hadn't waded through the all-encompassing, completely dependent early years, could we be so happily embracing the next stage of life? The stage where we have "kids," not newborns, babies, toddlers, but brilliant, absorbing, reflecting, participating little human beings?

As my brother loaded all his beautiful children (b/g four-year-old twins and two-year-old daughter) into their minivan, I watched SIL try to get comfortable in the passenger seat. My newest little nephew will be here soon, and I can't wait.

But hell if I won't be skipping down the sidewalk as I leave that baby in his own Mama's arms.

I know this time is fleeting - the magical years where the Boys still kind of need me, yet move further out on to their own planetary orbit. And sadly, I'm fairly certain the Sippy Years will become quite sentimental when Tween Hormones rage.

But for now, I'm taking a very long, deep, cleansing breath after holding it in for way too long.

Bring on the fun!

Missing Boy Alert

Written by Kath

I was wondering if you could all help me out with something. 

It seems as if my oldest child, my son, has gone missing. I’m not sure of the exact time he left, but I can’t find him anywhere. Maybe if I describe him, you can tell me if you’ve seen him around.

Eleven years ago, my sweet boy entered this world. After 12 hours of labor and 4 strong pushes, he single-handedly changed my world forever. He made me a mother and my life has never been the same since. Those early days together were certainly no picnic. The transition to motherhood was not an easy one for me. But we persevered.

When he was 6 weeks old he flashed his first real toothy grin at yours truly. It was the first time in my life that I thought my heart would literally burst from my chest and explode. Never before had I felt such love. It was amazing.

As he grew, we became the best of buddies. During our daily walks he would point out things he noticed. The tiny flowers growing at the base of the trees. The funny shape of clouds. The butterflies flitting in the garden.

I never knew I had been missing so much.

We loved trips to the zoo. We’d sit on a bench eating our favorite snack of "Chicken In A Biskit" while we watched the raccoon jump from tree to tree. Then we’d cruise over to the petting zoo where he could sit on a real (REAL!) John Deere tractor.  Wow!

But our favorite thing to do was to pack a lunch and head out in search of a construction site. We’d sit and munch and discuss all things construction-ish. He taught me the difference between a crawler back-hoe and a front-loader back-hoe (yep, there is a difference). We clapped with utter joy when a large dump truck would dump its load. The sound was phenomenal!

After five years, my boy went on to all-day kindergarten and my world was rocked a bit. I missed our time together. I haven’t admitted this to many people (but we’re all family here, so what the heck).  I would find excuses to run errands at just the very time he’d be out on the playground at recess. Yes, I would stalk my own child just to get a glimpse of him. I missed him that deeply.

Even with school, though, our bond continued. There were hugs and kisses at the end of the school day with lengthy discussions of everything that happened in his little life. I was there through the sports and scouts, cheering him on, being his number one fan.

But lately, I can’t seem to find my boy. 

In his place, someone new has moved into our house. A complete stranger, really. This new boy isn’t fond of washing his hair. He’s sporting a smattering of pimples across his nose. After a particularly strenuous baseball practice when this boy gets in the car, it gets a little “gamey” (if you catch my “drift”). Windows are rolled down quickly for a gasp, er - breath of fresh air.

Without a doubt, the most difficult part of this new boy is that he thinks I’m a complete idiot. The eye-rolling and exasperated sighs in response to most anything I say (for instance, “Did you finish your math homework?”) is shocking to me. At times, he gets so frustrated explaining something to me (a real simpleton, I am!) that he just quits and walks away. Yep. He thinks I am a complete and utter idiot.

There was a moment during this past week when I thought I caught sight of my son. He had just scored a run for his team after having his first “major” league hit. As he ran into the dugout, his eyes scanned the bleachers until they met mine. Then he flashed me that amazing smile, similar to the one that made my heart want to burst 11 short years ago. But unfortunately, after the game, the “new guy” was back.  *Sigh*

So, if any of you have seen my first-born, could you tell him to come home? Please? I miss him achingly. 

Or if you have any advice on how to get him back, I'm all ears.