I'm a teacher's kid. From day one of school, I got on the bus with my two sisters, well after our mother left for work. If I wanted cold lunch, I had to pack it myself. I grew up hearing my mother call other kids "her kids." My sisters and I spent countless hours running around our mom's school during the summer. And, while I could count on my mother being there all summer long, I also grew up knowing that my busiest times of the year were also my mother's. None of these things hurt or harmed me, instead, they shaped me into the person I am.
15 years later I find myself in my mother's shoes. My babies playfully roam the halls of my work place (and obviously lock themselves in the lockers from time to time). We are able to spend our summers together and I get to enjoy a job I care about; I really feel like I get the best of both worlds.
Times; however, have changed. Social media is a monster and I feel there is this unspoken expectation that I need to be present at every drop off, every pick up, each meet and great, volunteering in the classroom, and helping out at every practice and school function in between. But, as a teacher, who works the same hours my kids are in school (in a different building) and has her busiest times of the year coincide with her children's, this is next to impossible.
Bad mom confession: I didn't drop my son off at his first day of Kindergarten. It wasn't because I don't love him or because it would be to difficult emotionally, but because I was working. I had 120 little 6th graders waiting for me. I had 120 little 6th graders whose only smiling face they might remember, was mine. I had 120 little 6th graders with multiple parents each, expecting that I would be there for their little one as they walked through the doors of middle school for the first time.
To those mothers, and families, who were present on the first day of school, I applaud you in your ability to plan and make things happen, I genuinely liked each of your posts. My post; however, was of Beckett in my backyard. So that I could have a little moment, I made the poor kid get up and dressed an hour before he needed to. On top of that, I had to text the photo to my husband because on everyone's first week of school, he was traveling in Mexico for work.
But you know what was amazing about that day? For the first time, my mom got to take someone to their first day of school. My mom, who selflessly came to visit for a week to help out, was able to help pack my son's backpack, pay for his hot lunch ticket, and greet him at the door after school was let out.
For many, those are moments that they may never get back, but for me, those are moments I'm okay with hearing about. I know my son was in good hands and I love that he is growing and moving forward. Not to mention, after years of riding the bus and not being dropped off, I'm no worse for the wear.
I've never been the type of mom to say "slow down" or "stop growing so fast," not because I want my kids to grow up and leave, but because each step is a gift. I love that my first born is taking on kindergarten like a champ; when he came home telling me all about what an eclipse was, I beamed with pride. As my baby girl pieces together full sentences and is able to express herself, I hold my breath because it is so amazing to watch. When our middle stepped out on his own for the first time in pre-school and made his own friends, I cheered.
I'm fortunate to be here for everything, maybe there are a few moments here and there that I miss, but overall, I get to be on this journey with my kids. I get to see them grow, hear their stories, and hopefully continue to be apart of their lives.
I'm a teacher's kid. I was raised knowing that education, learning to be independent, and growing up, are not only parts of life, but gifts.
I didn't drop my first born off on the first day of school, but as a teacher's kid, I think he'll get it.
