My two oldest boys return to school (finally!) tomorrow.  Linus is beginning kindergarten.  Full day kindergarten.  He did full day preschool, two days a week.  I am not worried about the transition, because his sadness was palpable when he asked “do I have school tomorrow?” and I had to tell him “no.”

As with the passing of any season, I have to ask myself, did I accomplish everything I wanted to?

Naturally, I did not.  There were things I had wanted to do, such as take them blueberry picking and to see the Lego exhibit at the museum.  It just didn’t work out.  They did not earn it.  If I bruised my foot stepping on a toy, or wasn’t quite sure whether or not they still had carpet in the playroom, we weren’t going the extra mile for entertainment.  Plus I was exhausted from all the laundry, because apparently summer time means more wardrobe changes than what Lady Gaga undergoes on tour.

And mostly because they were driving me nuts.  I know some mothers relish the whole waxing poetic about how they lovingly made every day of summer a valuable lesson chock full of quality time and memories.  They are the nutjobs who probably voluntarily bring fingerpaints home, and USE them.  I am not one of those mothers.  Ok, I apologize if you are one of those people who lets their child fingerpaint at home.  You probably are not a nutjob.

But I used to be, both one of those mothers AND a nutjob.  Then I wised up that the 10 minutes of entertainment was not worth the hour of clean up.  Meanwhile, as you are scrubbing paint off of the ceiling fan and wondering “how?  Why?” the little darlings were eagerly begging me for the next fun activity.  My only response would be “Who wants to watch some Bob the Builder?”

So no, don’t give them high expectations.  Lesson learned.  They must figure out how to entertain themselves to a certain extent, especially if it does not involve a screen.  If I give my kids a stick and a cardboard box, they can now amuse themselves for quite a while.

I have been too strict.  I have been too lenient. I have forgotten that they are kids.  I am not a SuperMom.

Such as when we went to the Open House for Tater’s preschool.  We visited the classroom.  We saw the class bunny.  When we visited the cafeteria and I chirped “and THIS is where you will eat lunch!”, a tearful Tater asked me “where will I sleep?”

The poor child did not realize he would come home every afternoon.  He thought he had to live there.  Yeah, I cried over that one later, though I must say it never dawned on me to mention, oh by the way, you still live with us!

They can’t be babies forever.  We have to let them grow up.  It is hard though.  For every time you have to tell them to stop hitting their brother or pull their pants up, you remember all the cuddles and stories you read.  How they offered to let you suck their pacifier or rubbed their blanky against your cheek.

It is a time for a Mommy to be strong.  To remember that this is a wonderful adventure for the children.  School means they are a “big boy.”  Sure, we tell them that when we are potty training, or eating solid food, or whatever, but school drives it home.  You are a big boy.

So as that bus pulls away, don’t think of those first steps.  Don’t focus on how your boy will be taking First Communion so very soon.  Or how one can read way too many words for his age and makes sure he hugs you every day.

Remember the fighting.  The flooded bathroom.  The marker incident (I know we all had a marker incident this summer).  Remember the biting, the hitting, the crying, the refusal to nap or go to bed even though they obviously needed their sleep.  Remind yourself of all the dinners they refused to eat, the changing of clothes four times a day and how they left them on the floor.  How you went through an astronomical amount of toilet paper and hand soap this summer.

It will help.

The quiet doesn’t last.  Yes, initially it will scare you.  What happened?  What is wrong?  What are they in to?  No, the quiet doesn’t go on forever.  Not yet.   They will come home ravenous and wanting your attention.  They will have saved up HOURS of misbehavior, just for you.

You will learn to appreciate the quiet, the showers, the actual ingestion of food before they go to bed.  Of course you still miss them, but the idea of drinking coffee while it is still hot might dull that a little.  Make it a little more tolerable.

Some might think me a bad mother for looking forward to my kids going back to school.  I own it, warts and all.  It doesn’t make me a bad person, a bad mother.  It makes me HONEST.  I see comments in other sites where the mothers rear up like cobras, ready to attack anyone who doesn’t paint motherhood to be some fairy tale where your kids never make you mad or misbehave.  They are probably the ones who act like their husbands’  farts don’t stink so bad they long for a gas mask while in bed. I am happy for you, but don’t feel as if I need your rose colored insanity on my life.  I have enough insanity of my own, thank you.

I might also add that I have a toddler, and a husband who works second shift, so while my kids are in school it won’t be all bonbons and General Hospital.  Is GH still even on the air?  I haven’t watched television before 8 PM in so long I couldn’t even tell you.