First Day Jitters, Biker Gangs, and Father of the Bride

My babies started school today.  Nevermind the fact that they are seven and nine. They are still my babies. You mamas and daddies understand. I found myself on the verge of tears last night as I packed lunches, filled water bottles, and set out clothes for the first day of school for my second and fourth grader.

Don't get me wrong, IT IS TIME for them to go back.  We need structure. Our carefree, sleep until whenever, vacation-taking days must come to an end.  An especially rough couple of weeks in July made me question why we were not on one of those fabulous year-round school schedules. The crazy train had left the station and I wished I could hop on and wave to my loves while wishing their daddy "good luck."  But then there were the other times...

You know, the times when we sat down as a family to eat dinner AND EVERYONE STAYED PUT.  For us, this is most easily accomplished at the lake. No one rushes to finish and join friends.  The doorbell doesn't ring with friends wanting to play.  We just sit and eat and talk.  About the big stuff.  Things that matter.  Topping physical nutrition with a sprinkle of spiritual sustenance.  We'll have other moments like that this year, but I'll miss those summertime talks on the deck.

As much as I love the family time at the lake, I will also miss all of the neighborhood kiddos bouncing in and out of our home (and vice versa).  We have a small army of children in our 'hood.  A lot of the mamas stay home, and the kids literally boomerang around the neighborhood...eventually returning home.  I love feeding lunch to half the neighbor kids and hearing about their adventures. The boys jump their bikes on ramps they construct in the dirt piles, go fishing, and make crazy Instagram videos. The girls make water parks in the backyard and hook up the battery-powered Gator to the wagon in order to haul the younger siblings around the 'hood. This was the first summer that both of my children were old enough to roam the neighborhood with fewer parent-imposed restrictions. They were a pint-sized biker/scooter gang who only stopped long enough to refuel and rehydrate.  Showers and baths? Well, that's why God gave us the neighborhood pool. Will I miss the messes?  Heavens, no.  But I will miss the giggles and screams (okay, so not the loud piercing ones) that come with them.

Last night Steve Martin's line from "Father of the Bride" came to mind as I was readying our offspring for another First Day of School,

"I suddenly realized what was happening. Annie was all grown up and was leaving us, and something inside began to hurt."

Something definitely hurt.  The days are long, but the years are short.  I've heard it many times, but its truth hits home more each year.  Some days were are very long.  I still recall the days when we had been up all night with our baby girl or colicky baby boy.  I remember seeing the sun come up and thinking, "This is going to be a looooong day," as Matt would leave for work. It has been nearly a DECADE since those days with my daughter.

And so as they posed for those obligatory photos this morning, and we gave hugs and kisses while they happily scampered onto the busses with all of their neighbor buddies, there was a small pit in my stomach.  This is the last "First Day" that both of my kids will be at the same school until they reach high school. I said a prayer for each of them, knowing they were ready and in the very best of hands. It is going to be a fabulous year, and I intend to soak up every moment.  God has amazing plans, and I can't wait to see what He has in store.

As the last bus pulled away, my husband looked at me and the other parents, smiled, pumped his fist and shouted a celebratory, "Yeehaw!" First Day of Second and Fourth Grade. Check.

Had a great first day!