I still feel like it hasn’t really started yet. We had Glennys down for the first week, and then… I’m drawing a total blank on what we did the following week. Marc is off all this week, and it still feels like we’re existing in this odd holding pattern. Waiting.
I know that the end of the summer is going to be bringing big changes to our lives. Julie will be in fourth grade, which seems somehow more momentous than it maybe is. It’s fourth grade, a grade her brother never managed to make, and a year that her older sister absolutely hated. Fourth grade was Jessie’s year of many injuries – she had her concussion fourth grade, and broke a couple of bones, sprained a few more muscles. Julie is such a different kid, socially, than Jessie is, I’m hoping that her fourth grade year is a lot happier and a lot less accident prone than Jessie’s was.
Sam will be going into junior high, which, in and of itself, would be huge. But given that it’s his first year back since third grade… it scares the bejeezus out of me. There are so many things that I’m low-level panicking about – tonight I’m worrying about fire drills and shooting lock downs. And lockers and taking notes and navigating socially… it’s like this endless loop that I try desperately to not fall into. He’ll be fine, he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine. And if he isn’t… then we homeschool again. Or we’ll do TECCA or one of the other on-line options. There are choices here, and he isn’t locked into anything.
And Jessie – oh my God, she’s going to be a junior. In high school. I’ve got two more years of her childhood left, and then… it’s not that parenting is over for her, she’ll still be my daughter, and God knows, I’m 45 and still calling my mother daily – but I still get a lump in my throat when I think about her moving out.