Wait for me at the end of the sidewalk

Wait for me at the end of the sidewalk. Those were the words I uttered to my youngest son as we left school yesterday morning after stopping in briefly to meet his teacher, see his friends and visit his classroom. He was quick to hop on his scooter and take off. As much as I wanted to yell out to him to slow down, or to watch for small sticks and rocks that could get lodged under his wheels, sending him flying high into the air, I didn't. I am not and I have never been a helicopter parent. Children fall, get scratched, bruised, banged up and sometimes they break bones. It's all a rite of passage. I don't worry any less about my children and their safety, I just don't let my face wear my concerns. And so, on his scooter, my son confidently, rolled away from me. We live a quarter mile from the elementary school and while we are walkers we have the option to ride the bus because only part of our route has a sidewalk. The part that doesn't has a pretty significant turn and cars do come barreling around the corner. That part does get me nervous. The sharp corner is also at the exact spot where the sidewalk ends. He is not allowed to cross there by himself. Not yet and most likely not for a while. There we cross over together, sometimes I gently nudge his back, an indication that it's OK to run ahead to the other side without me. Sometimes I clutch him like Mama bear protecting her cubs, fiercely. It's hard to figure out when to let go sometimes. It's hard to figure out when to cross, sometimes.

Today marked the first official day of the school year. I have three children at three different schools. This is not unusual or new to me - I've had this for the past few years. This year, at least - and finally - they are all within 5 minutes from my home and on the same school schedule. This year, as the kids raced out the door at 7:00, 7:30 and 8:30 there was no time for that official "back to school photo." We seemed to have our acts together on this first day - we seemed to have our routine down pat, like a well-oiled machine. In fact, there seems to have been a lot less yelling than in the past - "getoutofbedgetyourbuttintheshowerbrushyourteethwashyourfacebrushyourhairgetdresseddon'tforgettoputsomescoksondon'tforgetyourlunchanddon'tforgetwhichbusyou'retakinghomefromschool!" 
I take my kids to school. It's the least I can do for them. It's nice to have that quiet time together in the morning and now that they all leave at different times, even though our time together is short, I get that one on one with each child that I so crave. By my taking the kids to school, I am also giving them each a half hour extra of much needed sleep. So it's both a selfish thing and a generous thing to do for them. They're completely on their own at the end of the day - if they miss the bus they know not to come crying to me. They can walk home. It will be good for them.

This morning Alexander was the last to leave. He was up and dressed in no time, and I let him hang out on the couch and watch some TV before school started. Then it was time to take off and before I knew it he was once again back on the scooter and racing out of the driveway. "Not so fast!" I yelled out to him, and he waited there for me, circling around, eager to get the show on the road. Before he headed down the hill at the end of our driveway, he gave me a kiss. "I'm giving you your goodbye kiss now," he stated ever so matter of factly. I grabbed him before he could roll away and gave him one too. And off he went sailing down the hill and out on to the busy road, hugging the side as I had instructed him to do. At the corner, he stopped, and waited patiently for me to catch up to him. Together we crossed the street cautiously. There seemed to be more cars this morning, the first morning back. Once he was safely on the sidewalk he once again took off.

He's not a kid for pomp and circumstance. He doesn't want a big fuss. Other parents lingered around with their children, and parents of Kindergartners gathered around the bus circle, eager to greet their youngest academics as they got off the bus, before officially embarking on their long academic journeys - Parents armed with cameras and iPhones and plenty of tissues, hiding tears behind large sunglasses... I've been there. I remember those days. I went through them three times. And now I'm an old hat. That first year of school is so exciting. You forget how little these children are. They're really all babies, still, aren't they?

And there was mine - my big 3rd grader who will be 9 in a week... He looked positively enormous by comparison. When we got to the front of the school he turned to me to say goodbye. I grabbed him and pulled him next to me and laughed as he pulled away when I attempted to kiss him. But for now I am bigger than he is. I managed to plant a big wet one on his cheek anyway. I let go of my embrace and gave him a gentle swat on his rear, whispered be good, and sent him off to be cared for by his teacher. And just like that, in the blink of an eye, summer is over and a new year with much hope and promise has begun.