Mythankfulboy and I have had a nice summer. Now it’s time to turn our attention towards his first year of high school.
On my mind: What will his classes be? Will he have any of them with his friends? What the heck are the actual school day hours, and what bus will he be on? How much homework will there be? Is there a supplies list up on the website? Is there a parent orientation night? Did they change the date for it? You know – the predictable stuff.
On his mind: How many more social events can I squeeze into the days (and nights) before the first day? What kind of scooter can I get with the money I have? How many more chapters do I have to annotate before school starts? How much is in the back-to-school supply budget for cool socks? Is there any ice cream in the freezer? You know – the predictable stuff.
He doesn’t seem at all worried about where to go or the size of the school or his schedule. He doesn’t worry about when he’ll see his friends. He knows some of his friends are starting to date, and he seems to think that’s all good without showing much interest himself (unless it’s under the radar, which is always a possibility). I think his take-it-in-stride attitude is a gift, and I am most grateful, even when I want to throttle him for not showing a little more concern.
August quickly becomes stressful around my office because we are very affected by the school year’s approach, and as this has happened this year, B has become a bit more attentive of my moods (self-preservation, one might say). I tend to vacillate between doing paperwork late into the night and going to be early because I was up so late the night before. On my late nights, he pops in from time-to-time to bring me a soda, set a silly object on my desk, or curl up beside me on the couch and tell me something on his mind. He sits on the bed beside my desk and we do the chalice lighting. On my early nights he tends to wait until I’m crawling into bed and then he lays on the floor in my bedroom with the dog and we talk about our day or the day to come and do our chalice lighting. It’s interesting, now that I think about it – the shift from my joining him beside his bed to the reverse. Heavens – my boy is growing up. Last night he was thankful for his new scooter, which he has decided to name “Geraldine” after my mom. He said he liked the name, and he likes her, too. I was thankful for books, which are an escape from the daily grind. He nodded in agreement. We smiled at each other for a moment, and then he lumbered up off the floor (he is officially taller than me, now) and went to let the dog in and lock up the house and turn out the lights.