For whom the bell tolls
It was a low key summer. Nothing terribly special except our vacation, a golf outing or three, and extra time available to spend with the grandparents. We did knock a few items off the summer to-do list. Hardly went to the pool at all, and after two years of dwindling interest I will no longer be spending an obscene amount of money on access to chlorinated water. The heat was stifling, so little spurts of outdoor time came in the after-dinner hours.
Nope, not much going on. The boys spent a lot of time on screens. A whole giant bunch. And it was their dream come true.
The why is up in the air, but for whatever reason we chose a very low-maintenance parenting path for the summer. While Trey and Aden did their share of dishwasher-unloading and perhaps-questionable laundry, we let them stay up until the wee hours most nights, soaking up all the technology their eyeballs could take. It was probably a mistake, and not the memories we're used to making. But I have a feeling this will be one of the highlights of their childhood reel. Hey, remember that time when Mom and Dad let us play video games, like, all the time all summer?
Anyway, it's been a slump and a time of great joy for the boys. No practicing handwriting, no book reading, and no one allowed to utter the word school.
The calendar flipped to August, and almost immediately, this happened.
In case you can't read it, in today's box Aden wrote, i. hate. this. Day.
Yep.
It's been like a Greek tragedy. All the pre-first-day doctor visits and they ask, "Are you ready for school?" All they get is the death stare. Schedule and teacher list arrived in the mail. Found out one friend each is in their classes and stopped there. The supplies were bought and organized, by me of course. Each boy glanced down into his newly-filled backpack, nodded in dejection, and walked away.
Psychologists believe there are five stages to grief. I would argue that these same five stages apply to the return to school. At least for my kids.
Trey was not embarrassed to be seen with me, but led me through his halls. I filled out forms and picked up paperwork as he introduced himself to new teachers and looked around the classrooms. How much he has matured. We left the middle school and he declared that it was going to be a good year.
Aden was nervous at first, but quickly warmed to his old surroundings and new room. As I yet again filled out forms, he and the teacher talked about his difficult year in third grade and planned together for a much better experience to come. He left with a smile on his face.
Last night in devotions we talked about purpose and attitude. I challenged them and all of us to not start the day with dread or a "get through" mentality, but to think, something good might happen today.
We all said that again this morning, as my babies set off on their seventh and fourth grade years.
Lord, may they grow in wisdom and shine for you.
Nope, not much going on. The boys spent a lot of time on screens. A whole giant bunch. And it was their dream come true.
The why is up in the air, but for whatever reason we chose a very low-maintenance parenting path for the summer. While Trey and Aden did their share of dishwasher-unloading and perhaps-questionable laundry, we let them stay up until the wee hours most nights, soaking up all the technology their eyeballs could take. It was probably a mistake, and not the memories we're used to making. But I have a feeling this will be one of the highlights of their childhood reel. Hey, remember that time when Mom and Dad let us play video games, like, all the time all summer?
Anyway, it's been a slump and a time of great joy for the boys. No practicing handwriting, no book reading, and no one allowed to utter the word school.
The calendar flipped to August, and almost immediately, this happened.
In case you can't read it, in today's box Aden wrote, i. hate. this. Day.
Yep.
It's been like a Greek tragedy. All the pre-first-day doctor visits and they ask, "Are you ready for school?" All they get is the death stare. Schedule and teacher list arrived in the mail. Found out one friend each is in their classes and stopped there. The supplies were bought and organized, by me of course. Each boy glanced down into his newly-filled backpack, nodded in dejection, and walked away.
Psychologists believe there are five stages to grief. I would argue that these same five stages apply to the return to school. At least for my kids.
- Denial
- Anger
- Bargaining
- Depression
- Acceptance
Trey was not embarrassed to be seen with me, but led me through his halls. I filled out forms and picked up paperwork as he introduced himself to new teachers and looked around the classrooms. How much he has matured. We left the middle school and he declared that it was going to be a good year.
Aden was nervous at first, but quickly warmed to his old surroundings and new room. As I yet again filled out forms, he and the teacher talked about his difficult year in third grade and planned together for a much better experience to come. He left with a smile on his face.
Last night in devotions we talked about purpose and attitude. I challenged them and all of us to not start the day with dread or a "get through" mentality, but to think, something good might happen today.
We all said that again this morning, as my babies set off on their seventh and fourth grade years.
Lord, may they grow in wisdom and shine for you.
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