Bus, Bus Baby (First Day of School)

It’s September. The unofficial start of Fall and all the goodness that comes with it. Pumpkin spice lattes, apple orchards, football, caramel apples, giant leaf piles, hot chocolate, oh…and KIDS GOING BACK TO SCHOOL!!! Yippee!!! Oh wait, I mean sad, sad momma (insert sad trombone).

Tomorrow is a big day, it’s not just the first day of school in this house, it’s the first day of MIDDLE SCHOOL. Eek. I’m pretty sure I’m more nervous about it than he is. Suddenly I’m having flashbacks of getting lost, forgetting my locker combination and running to class to get there on time. I’m starting to sweat and breathe heavy just thinking about it.

The good news is, his middle school is very thorough and mindful in creating a welcoming and low stress start for their seventh graders. Orientation was four hours long. They toured the school, received their schedules and lockers and walked the routes of their first trimester schedule to ensure they know where they’re going the first day. They even came home with a map of the lunch room indicating the flow of the three lunch lines. But…it’s still the lunch room. Remember the days of the lunchroom? Holding your tray the first day, hands shaking a bit, searching frantically for someone you know to sit with, all the while carefully trying to balance all that’s on your tray, hoping you don’t drop it or trip on something and fall flat on your face in front of 400 other kids.

Yeah. That. Boy, am I glad those years are behind me. But now, they are in front of my son.

He’s excited. He seems ready, as ready as he can be. His clothes are picked out, back pack packed, locker combination memorized. We are hopeful for the blank canvas a new school and its teachers can provide. He appears confident, more confident than I remember being at that age. I am nervous, with all he’s been through the last few years, but I am also optimistic. The new school year, just like a new calendar year, brings the promise and opportunity for positive change. And that is what we are resting our faith on.

Like last year, I sat down to write a letter to give him the first day of school. But it’s different this year. He’s less willing to listen to what comes out of my mouth. Or appears to be less willing anyway. Perhaps he’s just feigning indifference, but I’m pretty sure all he hears me say is, ‘blah…blah…blah’. It is expected. I know this is the age your parents and all they represent become totally U-N-C-O-O-L. He’s plainly stated as much, somewhat politely explaining to me his embarrassment of hanging with his mother. Last week, I brought him to the last movie of the summer. Five minutes in, he nudges me with his elbow, “Mom, I’m going to go sit over there.” And then he proceeded to grab his popcorn and water and hop across the aisle to sit by himself. Hmph.

It makes me sad. He’s my only. I don’t have any other kiddos to snuggle me or think I’m the best thing since Christmas morning. He’s it. But…I also totally get it. I remember yearning for that independence. Wanting so badly to separate myself from my parents and embrace all of my perceived coolness. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt a little bit more each time he claims his own space and stiff arms me from crossing that line. Yet, it’s a beautiful thing watching him find himself. Except for when he tries to ‘find himself’ by exerting independence when it’s not really allowed, i.e. avoiding chores and following directions. I don’t really enjoy his exploration of independence in these situations and would appreciate a bit more attentiveness to doing what he’s told, without the ‘buts…’ or ‘whys’. But alas, this just isn’t his natural personality, to follow directions and rules without questioning the purpose of them. It shall serve him well one day, I’m sure, as long as he’s his own employer, right?

Anyhoo…let’s get back to tomorrow. I shall send him off, bright and early at 7:25 am to catch the bus for middle school. I will swiftly attempt a back to school photo on the front step, which is thankfully not in direct sight of the bus stop, so he can’t decline on the basis of other kids seeing the abomination of his mother wanting to capture this moment in time. I informed him I am walking to the bus stop and will casually and cooly hang, some distance from him, until he hops on the bus. He’s begging for mercy. Trying to negotiate his way out of my presence. I’m non-negotiable on this one. I did agree not to kiss or hug him, and promised he didn’t have to skip to the bus stop with me, holding my hand and swinging them to and fro. I feel like these concessions are pretty good on my part. He’s still begging, claiming total embarrassment of my presence simply standing anywhere within 20 feet of the stop. But alas, I quickly informed him that embarrassing would instead be me singing ‘Bus, Bus Baby’ to the tune of “Ice, Ice Baby”, while simultaneously twerking and doing the sprinkler. And in fact, I demonstrated the exact dancing and booty shaking that would commence at this bus stop, right there in the kitchen.

Smart kid. He chose my quiet stance within 20 feet of the bus stop.

So here we go, wish me err…him luck tomorrow. Middle school and all its melodrama…HERE HE COMES!

Bus…Bus…Baby