Summer is Over

Tomorrow, my children return to school and if I wasn't so exhausted from the roller coaster ride that was our life this summer, I'd be clicking my heels. As it is, the mere thought of them climbing onto those big yellow buses causes joy to bubble up and spill out my ears.

My kids are a lot like me in the respect that they crave routine and seem to do much better when everything is orderly. When the schedule is up in the air, they come completely undone. They are natural born planners. More times than I can count, my son will inquire at the breakfast table about what he can expect for dinner. Drives me bonkers.

Olivia was enrolled in a great blood-letting summer program that while causing my wallet to shoot sparks, nevertheless kept her in the Monday to Friday groove. Dylan was another story.

For several weeks, we allowed him to pass his summer holidays as he pleased figuring he was old enough to be left alone during the day. Dylan is remarkably responsible for his age and I often forget that I'm dealing with a child. Nothing bad happened but it became clear that he was spending the majority of his time cooped up in the house with his laptop and cell. He wasn't getting a lick of exercise and he found each and every one of my emergency chocolate stashes. He didn't seem to be bathing as often and there were days, I'd come home from work to find him on the couch in his gitch, looking exactly like his father as he had the moment he rolled out of bed that morning. A few times, Dallas gently mentioned that he thought Dylan needed to attend some sort of program. Eventually, I agreed but there's not much available for tweeners except the Boys and Girls Club, which turned out to be the best thing that happened to Dylan all summer.

But that's all behind us because tomorrow, my baby boy starts grade seven.

JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL.

A few weeks ago, we had to take his supplies over to his new school and get his locker assignment. I taught him how to open the combination lock and then we practiced doing it once or twice so he didn't find himself frustrated and panicked on the first day (like I would be). I nattered on about how he could personalize the inside of his locker with pictures and oh, wouldn't the addition of a shelf be handy? Dylan just stood there looking around and taking it all in, humouring me with absent nods. He was composed, entirely unruffled and eerily calm. I was a wreck. On the way out, we saw a ton of eighth graders as we passed by their section of the school and I was floored at the sheer size of some of the boys. And oh my god, there was nothing naive or fresh about some of those girls.

I loved junior high. I went to my first school dance, bought my first pair of heels and kissed a boy for the first time, which was fine and dandy when it was ME who was experiencing all of that but I can't quite get my head around my son being old enough to look at girls that way.

I'm going to have to be medicated.