Back to School

It’s Saturday night and I watch my two oldest girls go through their newly purchased school supplies like it’s Halloween candy.  Still in the plastic bags, they go through one by one, taking out the pens and markers, pulling out the nine folders I bought of baby animals and like a draft, selecting one by one which one they want – Haley selects the bunny rabbit which was a bit of surprise as the kitten hanging out of a basket was the odds-on favorite to win.

The only reason they are still in bags is because I came home and just threw them in the closet.  School doesn’t start for another few weeks and I assumed they wouldn’t even care.  As a matter of fact I also assumed I would have to be the one to go and organize.  However, Haley came up to me while I was sitting on the couch and asked when we were going to go through the items.  I told Haley they could go ahead and do it themselves if they really wanted to.  I was confident my response would leave to a “never-mind”, but instead they both ran downstairs to begin their organization. 

If I remember correctly, they’ve been complaining about school starting soon, so this joy in anything school throws me off.  I put my paper down and walk downstairs.  There they are with all the bags on my bed.  Haley has her new backpack almost filled and tries it on with every new supply put in and walks around to give it a test run.

Kelly sees me and asks if I still have her back pack, now I feel bad as I only bought a new one for Haley, Kelly’s is still in good shape.  I am about to tell her I will pick her up a new one, but they seem to be having so much fun that I walk to the closet and pull out her pink Hello Kitty pack.  I get a “Bonus! I still have this!” and off she goes back to the bed to put in her supplies and –like her big sister, at this age always like her big sister – puts in an item or two and give it a test walk from the edge of the bed to the doorway, a whole four feet of walking.  Kelly nods her head as she gets to the door - she has given her approval that these number 2 pencils I bought will do just nicely in her Hello Kitty bag – and then back three and a half steps back to the bed to begin on the markers.

I am now in full dad mode as I hide behind the door and peek in so they can’t see me.  I watch the organization of this grand event – “Kelly tell you what, want don’t you take my, pooh bear pencil case, if you will let me your puppies notebook?” Haley says, holding the pencil case in front of Kelly to make the trade seem more desirable. “Deal!” Kelly says immediately, as she grabs it from Haley and begins to put in her scissors and glue sticks without handing Haley the folder, but seems satisfied with the exchange.

I like seeing my kids be kids.  I love these reminders that life is good and there is still so much to enjoy.  They force me to get out of my head of how difficult things can be, how much sadness is in the world, how much crap there is to deal with.  They don’t have time for all that over-thinking; there are pencils to be sharpened and flash cards to put rubber bands around.

It’s infectious, I think I put those bags in my closet because I don’t want to have to deal with the fact that school is starting in two weeks.  Is there anything more annoying that summer is ending and school is starting?  I don’t want to even think about all the details that school for three kids will involve.  But the kids didn’t even give me an hour, they pulled those bags right out of the closet and started their little party.  I can’t believe that I am thinking this, but I think I’m now excited for school to start also.  Damn the details, there is a year of new possibilities and wonder ahead for them.  Thanks girls, I owe you one.

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

Special thanks to our regular guest contributor Matthew Croke who is filling in for Jackie today!

The first day of pre-school was minutes away.  You could see the parents glide into the room as if on hover shoes, their little ones following closely behind.  My Molly, holding my hand tight and almost hugging my leg, walks in the room with me.  She sees the sand table, pulls away from me like my hand is on fire, and I am quickly forgotten.

The teacher, Mrs. Linda, is a woman in her sixties, but possesses the energy of a twenty year old.  She bounces from parent to parent collecting all the mandatory paperwork and vaccine records.  She bounces her way over to me and I hand her the papers. “Anything we should know about Molly that is not in here.” she blurts out, catching me off guard.  From the tone of her voice I could tell she is expecting a “No.” and then off to the next person.

“You should know her Mom died when she was only 3 months old.” I said, watching her face make the same expression when I tell people the news; cheeks drop, eyes slightly close, and lips held in a forced half smile.  “Thank you for telling me. I am so sorry. Don’t worry, when Mother’s Day comes around, I will make sure we make a card for grandma or an aunt.” she says.

I have gotten better at this, and a few years ago I might have acted awkward which would make the situation more awkward.  But I place my hand gently on her arm, “Thank you so much for looking out for her, but I do want Molly to make a Mother’s Day card for Lisa.  She has a Mom, she’s just in heaven.”  The teacher’s forced smile relaxes into a natural one. “That’s good to know, I sometimes don’t know what the parent wants.

There is something about a death, where the instinct of others leans towards the “the person never existed” phenomenon.  I have a good friend who once brought up Lisa, and at the end of the conversation actually apologize to me for talking about her. “Don’t apologize.” I said “It’s not like you’re bringing up some night in Vegas where hookers were involved.  This is Lisa; she was my wife, I’m proud to talk about her.”

Trying to keep the name alive of the one we lost is a challenge.  But for today, at least I know Molly’s very first teacher will support my wishes of letting her know she does indeed have a Mom, we just can’t physically see her.