Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Another transition

"Summer" -- the summer that is defined as the young folks being out of school, having a more relaxed or flexible schedule, having Daughter home from college, having Younger Son at camp, having friends of both here at late hours, making road trips to baseball games -- ends early around here.

Today Daughter and I load up (and when I say "load" I mean it literally in every sense) and move her back to school, with Rush preparations, then Rush itself, being imminent, then classes starting in a couple of weeks. She will be moving into a brand new dorm this year, one of those apartment-like facilities that I would have gawked at back in the 70s when I moved into a cinder-blocked cell my first year of higher learning. We have our move-in instructions for tomorrow morning and any prayers for patience and understanding on my part are most appreciated.

Younger Son is in his second week of football two-a-days and he starts back to school a week from Thursday. Our supposedly wiser-than-the-parents school officials here believe we need to get an early start, have a break in the fall and finish first semester before Christmas. They have tried, unsuccessfully to push a "balanced calendar," a/k/a year-round school, on us but we have, thankfully, fought them off. Starting mid-August is bad enough and we traditionalists still enjoy the aforementioned rites of summer days and nights.

Wife and I have learned to flex. In the past several years we have gone from having three offspring at home, to two, to one, back to two, back to one . . . I've lost track. Suffice it to say we do a mental headcount every morning and we go with the flow. The doors revolve well and we try to do the same, enjoying whomever, whenever, and trying to keep some semblance of order at the same time, a feat that is never fully achieved. As a mild anal retentive and early-onset curmedgeon, I have to go out on the back porch and take the occasional cleansing breath.

I told Wife recently that I have this idea in my head that I really can slow things down if I try. "Maybe if I sit still for part of every day and just think about things . . . "

She suggested maybe I try a little harder to make the most of moments while they are here, a suggestion full of hidden meaning for me to ponder and a suggestion just chock full of wisdom, as her statements so often are.


Kelly said...

Lifting up prayers as I read this... and wishing your daughter a good year a school.

We're in the "getting last minute things done" phase before the middle child heads back. The younger is all set to go and pretty much doesn't require much assistance from me. The oldest is on the other side of that coin, getting her own ready for school to start. (she'll be a second grader at Yocum!)

Pam said...

Whew! Thinking about you, Bob!

School starts here on the 24, with pre-school schedule pickups slated for the 13th and 14th. Also, meet-the-teacher for Sam on th e 21st. Somewhere in that week there will also be a time Trish and I can take Connor for a dry run at his middle school.


Going to be a rough start for both boys, I fear.

Sam is currently in Day Treatment at Children's and not doing very well. Lots of med changes taking place.

Sending up lots of prayers.

Debby said...

I will be praying for you, Bob. I find it hard to be patient and wise when I'm hauling a loveseat up a stairwell. (Do you ever notice that move in day is always hot as heck, with high humidity? Why is this?) And box after box of books and clothing, and bedding, a microwave, the little refrigerator, the stereo, TV, DVD player. Oh, and we can't forget the DVD collection, and the... Oh, dear. I've begun to sweat. And I am getting cranky. Okay. Here's the deal. I'll pray for you now if you pray for me next weekend...

Bob said...

You bet, Debbie. I'm praying for you.

Maggie's move-in is now done and it was most of what you described -- hot as all get out (duh . . . we were in Alabama in August), a hand truck that had a wheel fall off, hundreds of girls squealing as they saw each other, loads and loads of stuff (it's sooooo different with girls). And yet . . . as the morning progressed and we were getting done and I was about to meet that goal of being out of there by noon . . . there was the sudden realization, as if it had only just dawned on me, that I would be leaving her again. So I said, "Sweetie, let me go to Wal- Mart for you."

And I called her from Wal-Mart and said, "Sweetie, let me take you to lunch." And at lunch I asked her if there wasn't something else I could do for her and I kept prolonging it way past my original departure goal.

And I let her out of the car again, with a quick hug and kiss, and watched her walk away again, and my heart fluttered and my throat constricted and I wiped away tears as I drove away . . . again. And oh God, how I miss her, again.

Debby said...

Oh. And now you've made me cry. Again.