Kindergarten Grandma

 

To every thing there is a season,

and a time to every purpose under the heaven. . . .

                                                                                    -- Ecclesiastes 3:1

 

This was the year I was supposed to be done with the whole schooling thing. I was supposed to kiss our third child, Eden, and send her off for the first day of her senior year in high school. I would wave, misty-eyed, and then venture into the coffee shop to BURN MY BRA, shouting, "FREEDOM!"

 

At the end of this year, I could leap skyward, click my heels, and shout, for real, "No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks!"

 

No more bake sales!

 

No more pâpier maché volcanoes!

 

No more soup-label drives or beginning band concerts!

 

No more blasting powder and overhead cranes to get a lazy body out of bed before the tardy bell!

 

But ohhhhhhh, nooooooo. I'm not done with the PTA, carpools and sucking up at conferences just yet.

 

Our "whoopsie daisy," Maddy, starts kindergarten on Wednesday.

 

Here we go again!

 

And I'm scared. The OTHER mothers will be 20 years younger. They will think that I am Maddy's frumpy old grandma, bringing her to school so that her mother can hold down that cool job as a Wall Street investment banker, an airline pilot, or both.

 

The OTHER mothers will have six-pack abs, no clothes or underwear older than their child, and frisky, tasteful piercings or a sophisticated tattoo or two. They will run half-marathons and be bilingual, with fulfilling and lucrative careers in addition to being superior moms, compared to me, because no doubt they will require far fewer naps.

 

It's almost the first day of school, and I'm already worried about flunking.

 

Not my kid. Me!

 

Maddy is prepared, though. When they ask, "How old IS your mother, anyway?" she will retort, "A hundred bundred. She's going to be a big help to me in history class, since she lived through most of that stuff."

 

I wouldn't say I'm burned out. But our three older kids got the four food groups in every lunch I packed, and a loving note. Maddy will be lucky to get roofing tile, chocolate chips, chewing gum, and maybe a five-spot to hang out at the bowling alley for a few hours after school so I can extend my nap.

 

I'm trying to make a good impression, though. All week, I've been staring at my 17 white eyebrow hairs. If I pluck the white ones out, there really won't be many left. So will I look younger . . . or deranged? Either way, will it be an improvement?

 

I'm working on my facial expressions, too. Kindergartners expect you to be surprised and delighted over their schoolwork. So even though it's my fourth go-round on this stuff, I'd better play along.

 

Fat blob of hardened clay? It's a dinosaur. Gasp! Clap your hands! Look amazed!

 

Odd swirls of black wire in plaster of paris? It's a swan. Be astounded! Slack-jawed!

 

Of course, I'm exaggerating. Truly, I'm blessed. It's fun to be back at this stage of life again, with such a cute kid. It's a privilege to be put her in a private Christian school. It's hilarious that she wants to wear her adorable plaid uniform to bed the night before, so she'll be ready, first thing.

 

I'm sure . . . sob . . . the next 13 years will go by fast.

 

I'm pretty sure the Lord has placed me back in a school community in my old age for a reason. I still have a lot to learn, of course. But this time around, I'll be the wise and experienced one. There won't really be that many surprises. This time, I can be a giver more than a taker - if I can just stay awake.

 

And that's pretty neat. In fact, I'm excited. On the first day of school, once I have my swig of Geritol and pluck a few white eyebrow hairs, even if I look pretty old and pretty deranged, I'll get in there with the OTHER mothers . . . and prepare to be amazed! †