7 Things I Want My Kids To Know On The First Day Of School

Things I want my kids to know on the first day of school

As you lie in your beds on this – the night before the first day of school – I know you are dutifully trying to sleep despite the anxious thoughts creeping through your minds. My mind is racing too. Trying to remember what it is like to go 8 hours without seeing your faces. Trying to remember what 8 hours of silence sounds like. Trying not to mourn the end of our lazy mornings, our big adventures, and time that belongs to no one but us.

I promise when we walk through those double doors tomorrow, you will forget all the doubts and fears that are keeping you awake tonight. Read more...

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A Love Letter to Preschool

06 10 15_0040 Yesterday my baby graduated from preschool.

I know he probably doesn’t look like a baby, with his shaggy hair and the new hole in his grin where a tooth used to be. But when I look at his face I don’t see the six year old boy that you do. I see the tiny wrinkly face of the newborn that nuzzled my shoulder in the wee hours of the night. I see the face covered in pureed carrots, the wobbly first steps he took in Palm Beach, the tear-streaked face that watched me walk out the door on his first day of preschool, the pain of skinned knees and blisters, the determination in his face before he threw his first spiral. Read more...

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My 20th High School Reunion: What We All Learned. Together.

This weekend is my 20th high school reunion. That’s what I tell people anyway, because it’s just easier. But high school is a bit of a misnomer for us.  Our class of 100 went to school together for twelve years.

Twelve years.

When you go to school with people for that long, it’s not just high school. It’s your whole childhood.

You walk with each other down the long hallway on the first day of first grade and you pretend not to be scared.  You lose teeth together.  You chase each other on the playground.  You get lice.  You learn bad words.  You get braces.  You get left out.  You fall in love for the first time. Read more...

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‘Twas the night before school

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Today is my least favorite day of the year.  The day before school starts.  The end of summer.  The beginning of homework and drudgery.

The end of fun.

Jack has been dreading this day for weeks.  He angsts. He frets. He worries about things to come instead of basking in the remaining moments of his freedom.  He is, after all, his mother’s child.  I do my best to distract him, to cheer him up, to reassure him he will love it once he gets there.  But I am pretty sure he can see right through me. Read more...

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When I was a kid, the end of the school year was brutal. I was ready for a languid, lazy summer by mid-April.  My brain, which generally fired on all 4 cylinders, was limping toward the finish line on a flat tire and a crappy suspension. The days were warm and my feet were sore.  The idea of finishing my diorama on Jamestown was more torturous than being trapped in a pit of snakes.

Turns out I still feel that way.

The moms who drove our carpool back then must have sensed this fatigue because at least once a week that last month of school, one of them would stop on the way home and get us Slurpees. Everyone had a favorite concoction. Mine was a Coke Slurpee with a thin layer of cherry in the middle. Read more...

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