Remember me? I used to blog here. And I have no good excuse for not posting the weekly column I have been writing in the Kerkhoven Banner ("syndicated" by the Raymond and Clara City papers as well). We'll call it laziness.
But for the folks who don't get one of those papers, here is my column from this week's papers, August 31, 2016. I will try to add pictures from time to time to make it more interesting.
It’s not you, it’s me
Like many parents, this time of year is bittersweet for me - we send our babies to school, back from summer vacation or off for the first time to kindergarten. I am ready, make no mistake about that. It's not possible for us to entertain and stimulate them all, all day long, as they experience in school. However, when it's kindergarten . . . it's scary. When it's tripled, it's indescribable.
I am dumbfounded as to how these last five and a half years west so fast. These three little boys, who have given me my first white hair, extra skin below my belly button that will never leave without a surgical procedure, and yet expanded my heart more than I thought possible, will get on the bus to kindergarten next week.
Three years ago I addressed our Hurricane as he went off to the big school, and now I will do the same for our little ones.
Dear Eero, Rex, and Magnus,
This day has really snuck up on me. Truthfully I think I’ve been in denial. You know, how you all are when I tell you to come inside and get ready for bed and you pretend you don’t hear me.
Kindergarten, I can’t hear you.
It’s not that I don’t think you’re ready. Preschool has served you well, and I know you will love going to school with your big brother and getting to know Mrs. Carlson. She’s wonderful.
You’ve mastered letters and numbers and colors and shapes, standing in a line, waiting your turn, and all of those things from preschool that I could not have prepared you for myself. It’s not you, it’s me.
I’m not ready. I mean, I’m ready for you to stop bugging me every day to turn on Rescue Bots for the sixth time that week. And I’m ready for you to eat whatever meal is put in front of you at lunchtime because you won’t have me to make you a peanut butter sandwich instead. I’m ready for you to leave the cushions on the couch all day.
I’m not ready for you to not need me. All of you at once.
That, however, is the beauty of what you have - each other. I cannot begin to fathom the closeness you feel with one another, together since birth in everything you do. I get a glimpse when you decide to all pack into the recliner and look at a book, or line up to jump off the edge of the pool at the same time. It makes my heart happy.
And while you have each other to lean on, I hope you continue to branch out and find your own ways in the world. That built-in support will be huge, and your dad and I will do our best to continue to foster your independent spirits.
There will be so many new people in your lives beginning next Tuesday, some we know, some we will get to know, and some we’ll wish we didn’t know. Your little curious, innocent minds have really yet to be tainted by any bullies or frenemies. I know you’ve got each other’s backs, as does the Hurricane, but I hope I never get a call from Mr. Keil saying you’re all in his office at once.
Eero, you are so sensitive and care how people are feeling. Your emotions and intuition are so fine-tuned, more than some adults I know. It might be that you’re enormous for your age and have white hair, but your peers are drawn to you and I know you’ll make a lot of friends.
Rex, your quiet demeanor and conversation skills are developed well beyond your years. I can almost see the wheels turning in your head while you think, and your typically intelligent responses make me feel even dumber than usual. School will come so easily to you.
Magnus, your energy and motivation is second to none and I get tired just watching you on full tilt, all day long. You have always been the smallest but the first to do everything; you’re one of the most determined people I have ever met. That will take you anywhere you want to go.
I’m trying to hold it together because, even though it’s so exciting to go to the big kids’ school, you’ll be a little nervous, too. That’s only natural. It’s the start of our ever-separating lives, and it’s scary for you and heart-wrenching for me.
Remember in the car on the way to Grandma Mary’s last week? Magnus started crying and said he didn’t want to go stay at Grandma’s, he just wanted to stay home with mom. Why? I asked. And he said through his tears, “I just really like you.”
I really like you guys, too, more than you could ever realize. But you will really like kindergarten and it will love you. And I’ll be right behind you, encouraging, pushing, holding on and holding my breath, watching you move forward and waiting for my moment to jump in. I’ll be ready for that, ready when three of my favorite people need me. Always.
Love you so much, Mom
Enjoy the last few days with your favorite people. And cheers to getting them out of our hair for another nine months.
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