GOOD OLD GOLDEN RULE DAYS....

All of a sudden I am thrown back in time. The hustle and bustle of ‘return to school’ preparations were part of my life so many years ago; then my children graduated, were into the work force, and the first days of September of each year only meant long, meandering walks to admire the changing leaves and enjoy the crisp autumn air. I seem to have come full circle, LOL!

Two of my three rug rats will be in school this year; the oldest in grade 2, and the mighty Bali entering kindergarten. It means preparing breakfasts early in the morning, making lunches, verifying that each has what is needed for the day, then brushing teeth and getting dressed and out the door to make it to class in time. Evenings will become the eternal arguments of homework vs television or play, watching that the toddler rug rat doesn’t scribble on said homework, the baths, and the repeated ‘Go to sleep! You’ve got school in the morning’.

The boys will also be registered for skating lessons, an extra-curricular activity involving a race against the clock on Thursday evenings, and a blocked Sunday afternoon. With the parents working shifts, and Mommy not much into outside activities anyhow, Mémère will be shouldering part of this responsibility. My son and I discussed it, and we have agreed that these kinds of things are too important to leave aside. Every Canadian child should have the opportunity to decide if he does or does not enjoy skating.

An extra calendar has been hung in the kitchen; notes will be made for school meetings, deadlines, appointments and hopefully, but not likely, we’ll remember everything. There’ll be the Halloween costumes to get together, birthday parties to attend, and the Christmas pageant to practice, not forgetting the boxes of chocolate bars that must be sold to pay for special school outings. Along with this there is the baby – distracting him when he can’t follow his older brothers everywhere, making sure he doesn’t fall down the stands he’ll be sure to climb in the arena, and the potty training which, from previous experience with my own children, he’ll get the hang of just when we’re all dressed in winter suits and on the way out the door to something for which we’re already running late.

Late last evening, under moon and stars, my son and I stood on the gallery, sharing a beer, watching the doggies as they played down in the yard, absorbing the intoxicating silence of the bush. Mommy had picked up the boys at 7 PM. They have spent 90% of their time with us since the separation 6 weeks ago, so this quiet break was welcome. My son ruffled my hair and asked his daily question. “You okay, Mum? Not finding it too hard?”

“So far, so good,” I laughed.

Nothing was said for a moment, but it was obvious that this child of mine, who is so much like his mother, was also thinking of the weeks ahead when he added wryly. “And the best is yet to come.”

“Hmmm. Yes.” I answered. “I’ve doubled up on my vitamins.”

His hug was warm, and we both SMILED.

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.