You should hear my house right now. It is silent.
Today is the first day with everyone back in school. It's been a long, drawn-out ordeal this year, with kids in 3 different schools with 3 different start dates. Or 4, if you count Simon going to preschool.
I used to be a bit judgmental of those moms that couldn't wait for school to start. There was a time when summer felt like such a delightful break! We had craft days, field trips and water days. Literacy time, quiet time, and a 7:00 bedtime. (Wow! I had forgotten that my kids used to go to bed before me!)
Without spending time on the details, let's just say that is NOT what summer feels like anymore. I am really ready to have everyone settled back into a productive routine that doesn't involve me trying to keep them all entertained all day.
I find myself overflowing with gratitude for all the great opportunities my kids have to choose from. This year we have choir (x2), volleyball, band (Caleb on percussion and Josh on trombone), piano lessons, basketball, scouts, young women, preschool, National Honor Society, and AP classes. So far. Yes, that can be a little stressful on the budget, especially at the beginning of the year. But I feel so lucky that the kids can be exposed to so many wonderful things!
I have had a headache for the past 4 or 5 days, so today feels especially bright for me, since I woke up with no pain! (The world is definitely a happier place without a headache!) I have accomplished more today than I have in a week!
I know the day will come all too soon when I will have more silence in my house than I would wish for. And I will miss these days when everyone was under my roof, and everyone needed me all day long.
But today I am glad for a moment of silence. I might as well enjoy it!
My inspiration for this record of my days:
“The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make. . . . I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less” -Anna Quindlen