Ways Parents Say It's The Last Week of School

We finish up school over here in Wisconsin this week. It's always the second week in June, but even without a calendar, my kids would still know the academic year is wrapping up. Here's why:

--I start packing them the 'good enough' lunch; a sleeve of saltines and a box of cold cuts.

--Driving them to school in my slippers doesn't upset me as much as it did in October.

--My signature on anything that needs to be returned to school and which once clearly identified me as the mother of said child pretty much has morphed into what it would look like if a chicken forged my name.

--School test papers are signed without me ever having taken my eyes off my computer screen.

--Does it really kill them if they stay up until 10:04 p.m. on a school night? Naaah, they'll be fine.

--So their uniform shirt could be a little bit whiter? Whose couldn't?

--The kid could use a haircut, and with the humidity, he doesn't even need a pillow at night, but summer's almost here. We'll take care of it then. Again, he'll be all right.

--The slapping of the separated soles on his athletic shoes make him sound like he's a seal in the seal parade at SeaWorld, but it would be a shame to buy him new shoes now with summer almost here and sandal weather just around the corner.

-- Has any child ever been truly traumatized by episodes of Twilight Zone at 9:30 p.m.? Kids are so resilient these days.

--If they fall asleep on the sofa after a long day at school, it's actually a good thing for a child. Keeps a  growing spine flexible and accommodating when he spends the night in different places.

--Bonus points if he falls asleep on the sofa in his school uniform from the day before -- he'll be dressed and ready for school when the alarm goes off the next day!

--I know I used to need 30 minutes head start before driving them to school, but strict instructions to wake me with four minutes left until go time works out just fine this last week.

--Ice cream sandwiches for breakfast? Sounds good to me.

And the number one clue that the teachers are soon closing up shop?

Mom forgets to set the alarm for the final and last day of school. Jumping the gun? More like wishful thinking. Sleeping past 6:00 a.m. is going to feel so damn good.

Have a great summer, everyone!

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Not So Wordless Sunday -- He Graduates

Remember to enjoy the ride, everyone -- there are some heart-bursting moments in there.

xo

 

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Last Day

I'm trying to sleep tonight, but a lump in my throat keeps me awake. Tomorrow, is here. The morning that I've put out of my head, preferring to not think about, has come. I'll drive my oldest son to school today for the last time. After that, he leaves in just ten weeks for his own life. I shake my head at the unreality of reality and keep saying to myself, 18 years? That was no 18 years  -- someone's lying.  

Life overwhelms me right now. The feelings of love and attachment too large to contain that they push against my heart and throat. I try to keep them in this week and they look for any way out, springing tears from my eyes or making the sound of my voice like a tight string. As if I'm girding up against a watershed of emotion that will flatten me. 

Today is his last day of school from a place where he's been every morning that I've woken up. I am disoriented, muddled, in the daze of a new land. I am proud, thrilled, intoxicated, delighted, grateful, honored, at having been his mother. 

This morning is like that day when he was first placed in my arms, swaddled tight, and it felt like a ceremony. Like the world was trusting me with the most important thing on the planet. The warmth and weight of him surprised me. I looked down at his face, so in love with him, wanting to say

I'm your mom
You're my son

My mouth opened and closed, croaking out nothing, only tasting the salt of my tears instead.

I love you, Alec. I love you, so much. This life passes quickly, though I can't say it sneaks up on us. I've been looking over my shoulder these years, knowing this day was always there. Thank you, my son, this time of you as my little boy, has been the most wonderful of my life.

*Here is the little man above, today:

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ArtbySon, Inc.

It was about 8 p.m last night when I was on my computer googling why did Kim Kardashian dress like a pilgrim for her wedding doing research for a project. Some new emails came in and there was one with my son's name in the subject line so I clicked. And then I screamed.

A visual image that looked like a dinosaur's eyeball being held for ransom was staring back at me. As I skimmed quickly, worried that my son had acted on a double dog dare while out with his class on a field trip to the dinosaur exhibit, I see that what's been sent to me is just a teaser, if you will, of all that I could have... in the form of a thumbnail of my son's 5^th grade art work.

Yes, it was a dragon's eyeball, done by my son in art class. And if I liked, I could have 500 of these same images of a bulging Bob Costas-like retina made into a comely necklace to dangle between my breasts. Such a conversation piece. If I wanted more, I only had to say the word and click the mouse with credit card number at the ready, and I could be the owner of Coasters Pen Holders Water Bottles Key chains Magnets Mouse pads Coffee mugs Travel mugs T-shirts Clothing Gear Mobile Phone Cases Art Snap Jewelry Aprons/Smocks Tote Bags Cards Folded Cards Flat Cards Postcards Books & Prints Canvas Art Art Prints Notebooks Sketchbooks Portfolio Books Home Office Mouse pads Water Bottles Cutting Boards Pen Holders Coaster Sets Ceramic Tiles Fun Stuff Magnets Key chains Ornaments Bookmarks Quilt Blocks Bag Tags, all made from my son's artwork.

With a push of a button.

Can you believe that? My child's artwork can live on forever. On me. Every single piece of it that we now currently try and find a place for -- the non-karma believing ones among us just jam into recycling for next Monday's pick up. Up to this point, my MO was to shove everything under the futon in the guest room. Sometimes I have the time to slap a year and child's initial on the back before adding to the dust-laden compressed pile under the slat boards.

It feels as if it were only yesterday that I crammed Wisconsin Modern Nude Cows, 2^nd grade, by Auggie under there. Anyway, I needed to respond to this email's offer of, “Resolve to catalog your child's inner expression! Follow along and track his emotional development through the years.”

Ignorance is something that sounds better to me, I don't want to plotchartgraph mother issues, but I only have ten days. If I don't activate registration by the deadline, all uploaded images by the school will be lost.

I think I have to go and take myself for coffee to Starbucks to think about this one. Maybe even dinner with a friend for advice. A movie might help clear the head. Drinks after? Could be a good call. I don't know what to do, and what I'm left with is a feeling that inspires me to create and upload my own works of art on this website. I'd call it Litany For My Son's Lost Online Body of Artwork, a series: by Alexandra, 2014. Each slide would depict a stage in my grappling decision, essentially step by step as I work through my shit and arrive at the final process. The last slide shows me fully naked, only clothed in dangling *ArtbySon* jewelry, dog tags, earrings, aprons, and tote bags.

How could a parent say no? By the time I completed the order form, it was well after 1 a.m. But then, I slept the sweet sleep of those that have done the right thing. Yes, I'll have to take on two additional part time jobs to pay off the dent on the credit card -- still worth it, because I will soon be a living breathing walking art museum of my son.

I'm his dream come true, that's what the company tells me, anyway. "Every young artist wants his own online art gallery, preserving their masterpieces for all time!“ I wonder, when did they have this one on one time with him? He never whispered such lofty ambitions to me. As far as I knew, he only dreamed of that $59 soccer ball we saw at Dick's.

Okay, *ArtbySon* and Company, I bought it. And his artwork. Here I am, baby, come take a good look. Look hard, though, I'm somewhere underneath the lead dog tags made in China and the made in Cambodia umbrella with matching tote bag. All done in glorious bulbous dinosaur retina.

 

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In Case You Missed It

Been a busy time over here, getting physically and mentally ready for high school graduation. Prepping the heart for how college is only ten weeks away. I'm lucky almost every day on the internet. I find words that help make sense of all that is flying at me.

Some good stuff out there, and it feeds me. I hope you click over, and see if it doesn't do the same for you:

--Jett Superior, of alphabetjunkie . She first took my breath away four years ago, and she did it again today. Life, unexpected exploding stars that find their way to us and are just what we would have wished for if we were smart enough to know the right things: This one meanders some, but we'll get there.

--"I mean, however old you are, you’re as young as you’re ever going to be. Oof, that’s obvious. Now that I’m 45 I’m going to issue really obvious pronouncements like that one. Also: be nice to people. Not to mention: sunscreen. You’re so very welcome. " So begins Alice Bradley's post on finslippy . About a birthday, and turning 45. She will always be one of my favorite people. Period.

--"... leaps don't have to be leaps: how to change your life by simple steps." I follow Karen Walrond's blog, chookooloonks, and through her, found limeretreats blog. Amazing candid talk there today on changing the direction of your life and tips on how to start. Just thinking about doing it, is step one.

--This week, what needs to be mentioned. The world lost Maya Angelou. I have lived on her quotes and her memoir like she was my very own. In this clip, she recites what gives me goose bumps to this day, And Still I Rise.



Have a beautiful week, everyone.

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