My house is silent. The dryer just beeped letting me know my clothes are dry. The a/c is on, and I hear subtle snoring to my left.
My bedtime is 8:30 and here it is, 10 o’clock and I’m still awake with a million thoughts running through my head. My littles are anxious for the new school. They’re afraid they won’t know how to find their classrooms, or the lunch rooms, or the gym. They’re nervous for new teachers and new friends. I’m nervous for the same things plus all the motherhood nerves that plague our generation.
Please let them be the kind kids. Please let them have friends. Please let them make good choices. Please let them learn all the things. Please allow them to flourish. Please allow them to dream. Please let their personalities shine and don’t try to stifle their lights. Please love them.
As much as I, and they, crave routine, it’s always so hard to send them to a new and unfamiliar teacher. They’re going to spend so much time with them. I hope they understand Emilia’s inherent sarcasm. Sorry, she comes by it honestly. I hope they realize how to motivate Owen. He’s competitive, but not obviously so. I am so nervous to drop them off tomorrow morning but more than that, excited to pick them up from the bus stop tomorrow afternoon.
It’s the last day of summer and I’m ready, I think.
