It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year -- Or not

It's back to school time, which usually finds me and my husband gleefully singing, "It's the most wonderful time of the year!" to our 8-year-old's supreme annoyance. He gets insulted; we stifle our giggles. And when that glorious second day of school arrives and they head out to the bus stop, I suppress the urge to throw open the back door and in my best Mel Gibson voice yell, "FREEDOM!"

Usually, that is.

This year it's different. In mid-July the week before our vacation, I was desperate for school to start. Even on vacation with three kids I was ready for school to start back. Then we got home and they went to my in-laws for five days and came home and all the sudden my feelings changed. Suddenly I wasn't ready for school to start. There was so much I wanted to do this summer that we didn't do. It suddenly felt like summer wasn't long enough.

For a mother who is known for her lack of sentimentality, I am not sure what is wrong with me. School started yesterday and I am a sniveling mess! I don't know if it is that my oldest is in third grade now, which all of you parents of older elementary students know is a "whole other ballgame." Or if it's that my sweet middle child who still says things like "lickted" instead of "licked" and "crash can" instead of "trash can" is starting first grade, and I know by the end of the year those sweet, sweet words will be gone forever. Or if it's that my just-turned-three-year-old daughter looks at least four and some of my favorite styles are starting to look too babyish on her. Or if, and this is probably the case, it's the unfortunate case that back-to-school collided with hormones for me this week and it has sent me into an emotional tailspin.

Laugh at me if you must, but it is as if I just woke up and realized they are growing up and I am missing it. I am so busy carting children from one activity to another, fixing *somewhat* healthy things for them to eat, throwing them into the bath, and then washing grass-stained clothing, that I am missing their childhood, because I have children! My not-yet-nine-year-old son is only about six inches shorter than I am. Time is not long that I will be taller than all of my children. My six-year-old daughter is becoming this beautiful, social creature who lives a life completely outside of mine during the day and then doesn't really share it all with me when she gets home. And my three-year-old has started saying just this week, mind you, "duh, mom." Don't worry, dear reader, I'm putting Miss Sassafras's attitude on ice, but the point is she is no longer giving me three-year-old attitude; she's trying to give me "big kid" attitude. It's all very disconcerting.

As a mother I am very aware that my ultimate goal is to work myself out of a job. In 18 years, I can only hope that I am not needed for all the things I am now. I want my children to be independent and capable enough to do their own laundry and cook their own *healthy* meals, and go to class on their own and do their homework on their own, and even make money on their own (at least on a part-time basis) and yes, live on their own. But it's all going by so fast. I heard a dad on the radio just yesterday say, "How can the days take so long and the years go by so fast?" I don't know! I just hope (and pray) that I am getting in all the important things -- not just more trips to the zoo or "summer learning," but love and laughter and family and Godly teaching and all those things that they will carry with them for the rest of their lives.

Okay, I know I'm a sniveling wreck -- who is now openly crying as I write this -- but it will pass and I will forget to think about it. Instead, I will think of laundry and cheer practice and football games and homework and school forms. But the next time I have a really long day, I'll try to think of how fast the years go by and hold my children close to me and drink them in, if only for a few moments.

*Now go snivel amongst yourselves.*

Mommycation, here I come!

Well, I've finally gotten over the family vacation we took last week. I'm not sure if it's the shlepping three kids and all their flotsam and jetsum to the pool and beach, or if it's the shlepping three kids to a zoo when it's 95 degrees with 99 percent humidity, or maybe it's the shlepping three kids to a kid's museum and then chasing them around for five hours, or if I'm really honest it might be the staying up until 2 am to finish one of five novels I read during the week, but whatever it is, vacations WEAR ME OUT!!!

I've been back since Saturday night, and I'm just now getting over exhausted. I went to church Sunday and felt like a zombie. And then for reasons only known to the good Lord himself, I tried to take three children to buy school supplies and shop for back-to-school shoes. I'm pretty sure I should be committed to the closest looney bin with a spot available for a "masochistic mother." We made it through Walgreens without much incident -- that is if you don't consider me yelling at my children at least 14 different times, "Put the toys down and stop throwing things! Mommy is trying to shop for school supplies!" an incident.

Have I mentioned that sometimes I don't like myself very much when I'm in public with my children. Sometimes I think I sound stark-raving mad. I'm sure every person in the store thinks I am "mean mommy," and I don't blame them. I feel like "mean mommy." But alas, that is a post for a different day.

Because I was not done with the pain and punishment to myself, I decided to jet on over to the mall to shop for shoes. Here's just a little background info to show you, dear reader, the lunacy of this particular decision. For reasons unbeknownst to me, my children lose their minds upon entering a shoe store. The girls run to their section and proceed to try on red, glittery Dorothy shoes, jelly shoes, high heel shoes or (fill in the blank with inappropriate 6 and 3-year-old footwear that I am no going to buy), while my son proceeds to hide and proclaim, "I don't need shoes. The shoes I have are fine," even though his big toe is literally sticking out of the side of his blown-out Croc. At first I try to find shoes for them to try on that won't lead to a fight. Then I just try to get them to actually try them on, and finally after many minutes have gone by and the staff has asked me more than once if everything is okay, I end up cramming their feet back into the shoes they wore into the store, jerking up their little hands, and hauling them out the door all the while internally proclaiming, "I will never do this again." Shoe shopping is so bad that even my sainted mother-in-law was overcome by it last year when three adults tried to help three children find shoes. It is a job that no adult in my family wants to tackle without backup.

But for some reason I thought this time would be different. I had a coupon, by golly, and I was going to use it. Dear reader, after hearing about past excursions to the shoe store with three children, it should come as no surprise that this one went poorly. Let's just say no shoes were purchased and when we got home around two that afternoon, I was ready for a pitcher of margaritas! Now don't get all concerned and call DCS, I said I wanted to throw back some margaritas. I didn't say I actually did. There is far too much alcoholism in my family for me to drink when I feel stressed. That's what chocolate is for!

Needless to say, I did nothing on Tuesday except take the kids to football and cheer practice. Oh, I haven't mentioned that our 8-year-old son will be playing football this year and our 6-year-old daughter will be cheering for him? Well, I'm sure you'll be hearing about that very soon when the season gets up and running.

But Wednesday, glorious Wednesday, finally rolled around and I scrambled to get three children out the door to *cue the Hallelujah chorus* Nena & Papa's House. God bless my in-laws! They usually take my children for several days each summer and give me a mommycation. For the stay-at-home moms out there reading this, you understand that when you stay at home with your kids and then you go on vacation with your kids it is not a vacation, it is, as on of my friends calls it, "a change of location." And therefore it is usually harder to deal with your kids, because you do not have all of the things you usually use to distract them at home. So, I'm of the firm belief that the only vacation I get is when my children are gone and I am home -- or I'm sipping tropical drinks poolside -- a girl can dream, right?

*If you are a "working mom" and you agree with my views about kids and vacation, I'm fine with that. We can go somewhere and sip little tropical drinks together poolside while our in-laws or husbands take care of the kids. I'm not exclusionary.*

So, my mommycation has begun, and since I am so late writing this, it is almost over! I have basically done nothing, except of course shopped for school supplies and a few back-to-school clothes. In fact, today starts our tax-free holiday in Tennessee, so I'm going out for more clothes. I have felt a little twinge of guilt for not having done much of anything but shopping and relaxing and reading blogs and Facebooking, but with the way my fall is shaping up already, I figure I need some calm around here before the storm.

Maybe I'll clean out the kids closets like I hope to do. Maybe I'll get some sewing done for my daughters' first-day-of-school outfits. Or maybe, I'll just sit on my fanny and do nothing. It'm MY vacation after all, and I can do what I want. Right? Right!