A Little More Time

You know me, I hate to be overly dramatic, but something simply ghastly happened today.  Emily registered for senior year.  Yes, it’s true.  And to make it even more traumatic for me, I was not able to attend.  I have always gone to open houses and registrations, but I was working out-of-town today.  I knew weeks ago that I was not going to be there today.  My plan had been to write a full set of laminated, color-coded directions for Mark.  

Mark has trouble with the high school.  He went to a small, Catholic school and he thinks that the high school where our children have gone is far too large.  About 1,500 students attend the school, and it is pretty big.  Mark has been there many times, yet he refuses to learn where anything on the campus is located.  He never knows what door to go in, he doesn’t know what any of the rooms are called, and he just follows us around and smirks like he thinks it is ridiculous that there are this many students in a single school.  So the idea of sending him to registration was a little bit scary.  Luckily, Emily had done this three times before, so I was pretty sure she could handle most of it one her own.  But when I mentioned to Emily that her dad was going to take her, she said that it would not be necessary.  She had plans to go with a friend.  

What?!  You go to movies with a friend.  You go shopping with a friend.  This is school.  School is MY arena.  I had the distinct impression that these friend plans were made before she even knew about my work schedule.  She would have chosen to go with a friend instead of going with ME!  Her own MOTHER!  How could she do that?  She can’t do school things without me!  I practically am school!  Did she check over her classes and make sure she knew where they all were located?  Did she look at the tables where all the clubs are to see if there were any she wanted to join?  I got one measly picture.  I needed more pictures!  

I remember the better years, the years where I was able to go with her.  It was especially nice in elementary school when they had open houses and we could go into the classrooms and meet the teacher and bring her supplies.  I always took her picture with the teacher.  I did the same with Matthew.  (He loved it so much.)  We’d get to sign up for parties and offer to donate extra school supplies.  I would dress her in a cute little outfit.  A few times I got her an adorable little shirt that said what grade she was going to be in.  Of course, she always had a matching bow.  I always brought a nice gift for the teacher, too.  And those gifts kept coming.  If the school blew up and the teacher only had time to grab one kid, I wanted her to grab mine.  If getting her a nice gift every month made that more likely, it was worth a shot.  Tyra always told me that was awful and I was an awful person.  But guess who is buying her daughter’s teachers gifts now?  Teachers deserve those gifts anyway.  Teaching is hard work.  

But back to my misery, Emily is a senior.  Matthew is a junior in college.  I am too old for air.  Seriously.  In a year and a half, Matthew will be a registered nurse.  In five years, Emily will probably be a teacher.  But I am not nearly finished with my momming!  I think I still have lots of life lessons I need to lecture on.  And many of the ones I have given have not been well received.  Neither of them is a good flosser.  They will probably get gingivitis.  Their bathroom drawers are full of floss.  I have so many more flossing lessons I need to give.  Laundry.  They are both terrible at laundry.  They have clothes laying everywhere.  I have known both of them to wear clothes that are not fresh and clean.  They did NOT learn that from me.  My clothes are freshly laundered, folded, and even ironed.  I use all temperature settings.  Not those children.  Emily doesn’t even do laundry unless it’s an emergency.  Matthew throws absolutely everything in together and washes it all in cold water.  It’s probably full of bacteria.  He will most likely get the flesh eating bacteria and lose a limb.  I guess it’s good he’s in the medical field.  They need at least 500 laundry lessons.  What about dishes??  I have been talking to them about their dishes since they were toddlers.  None of those lessons has had any impact whatsoever.  They leave dishes everywhere.  Some have food still on them.  They will get rats.  And if they don’t, they will eventually run out of clean dishes and have to eat right off the countertop.  I really think that if I remind them a few dozen more times about the rats and roaches, a spark will ignite and they will start taking those dishes right to the sink to rinse and then put them straight into the dishwasher.  I just have not reached maximum saturation of lessons yet.  I need more time.

I need more time.  More time to put bows in Emily’s hair.  More time to read Matthew those dreadful Tonka truck books he loved before bed.  More time to pack lunch boxes.  More time to go to parent teacher conferences.  More time to tuck in and say prayers.  More time to hear, “I love you, Mommy.”  More time for them to be little and for me to be younger.  

1 thought on “A Little More Time”

  1. It’s so hard to let go. In letting them go they will return. Be happy for the time you were able to give them. There wil always need you.

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