The End of Summer Rollercoaster

I'm sitting at my computer on a Sunday night, wrapped in the fuzzy new blanket the kids gave me for my birthday, with a Lindor truffle slowly melting in my mouth while I type.  The dishes are clean, the kids are downstairs playing together, and Mark is in the other room wrapped up in his own happy place:  playing Clash of Clans.  It really couldn't be a more peaceful evening, so I figured I better write my post for Tuesday.  I won't have time to write that day because Tuesday is the kids' first day of school.  I'm actually a little sad about it this year.  Usually our summers are so hectic and loud that I'm more than ready for school to begin.  For some reason, I'm just not ready to let this summer go yet.

Maybe it's because the weather hasn't been its usual self this year.  We had a few hot days, but barely enough to equal a whole month.  I'm not complaining, because I love the weather we have had, but somehow, it just didn't really feel like summer.

Maybe it's because the children aren't babies anymore, so they spent many weeks away from home this summer.  They each took at least one turn going to their grandparents' houses for a week or more.  Some were gone more than once.  Breaking up and changing the dynamics of the family every once in awhile worked really well to give them new experiences.  Of course, it also made their usual arguing less frequent and more manageable. 

Maybe it's because I just realized that we are 2/3 of the way through with Reese's life at home with us.  He only has six more years of school before college.  Mark tried to convince me that six years is a long time, but I know it's not.  We have lived in this city for six years, and it has flown by so fast!  We moved here when Reese was only five, just starting first grade.  Six more years, and we'll be
taking him off to live on his own.  With another summer ending, it means we're that much closer to our first child leaving.

Maybe it's because this will be Marshall's last year as a preschooler, meaning his last year with time at home with me.  Next year, he'll be in school all day, every day.  My life as a stay-at-home mom as I've known it for the past many, many years will be over.

The end of this summer brings up feelings I'm just not up to facing yet.

Last night, Mark and I went out alone for a few hours, just to recharge one last time before school starts.  We were relaxing outdoors on the rooftop of one of our favorite restaurants, with nothing to do but enjoy each other's company.  Do you know what I did after we were finished with our meal and were finally able to sit peacefully, with no one there to need us?

I cried.

I was out on a much needed date with my husband of fourteen years, the man I love who parents these four incredible children with me, and I cried.

Not a lot or loudly, but I did cry.

I cried because even though I knew the kids were home having a blast with one of the greatest babysitters ever born, I couldn't stop thinking about them.  I cried because I wanted to be in the moment of our dinner out on the rooftop, but my brain wouldn't let me be there.  I was still thinking about Marshall's first day jitters and that leftover vacation laundry and remembering to put money in the kids' lunch accounts.  Soccer and swimming are starting soon, and Mark might travel for work, and gosh, why couldn't I just forget about it for an hour and enjoy my Cherry Coke? 

I realized I was crying because I hardly ever have a second to myself to breathe.  We moms are always thinking about everyone else, right?  No matter how many lists we make or reminders we set for ourselves, there is always something else coming up, overlapping, or even being forgotten.  Just having those few minutes to let myself breathe, with Mark there with me, was a relief. 

I didn't cry for long, because of course he cracked some joke to make me laugh.

I said it, I let it out, and I was done. 

I'm not saying that I won't cry again the next time we have a few moments of peace.  Honestly, if you ask Mark, he'll tell you that I do tend to cry on our dates.  I cry on our dates, and I cry in my doctors' offices.  I guess it's just something about finally having those few minutes to focus on myself that lets it all come to the surface.

Now that I have had time to contemplate everything, I'm feeling more ready for the new school year to begin.  I know we can't stop time.  Kids will grow.  That's my job and has always been my job...to help them grow.

On the up side, when the kids are away at school for so many hours during the week, finally I will have some of that alone time I've been craving. 

So, do I want them to grow up or do I want to have time for myself? 

Motherhood: what a roller coaster!

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