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Monday, August 10, 2015

Summer Magic

I really think summer is the stuff magic is made of.  If I could bottle the ingredients, which I believe would consist of long days, warm breezes, the chimes of ice cream trucks, orange and pink sunsets, and the smell of sunscreen on toddler skin, to be sprayed during the long dark months of winter; I would call it “Summer Magic” and become a millionaire.  Seriously.  I know I’d buy it anyway.

After what I like to call a fast-long week back at work with only the younger grades, I welcomed a weekend to relax a little bit.  These days I feel like I am sometimes wound so tight trying to anticipate what a day could bring that exhausted is just an adjective that doesn’t do me justice.   Saturday, after ruining a dress and pair of my pants (granted the beautiful soul was doing the laundry), Sean suggested a trip to the outlets.  After a semi quick drive over the Massachusetts state line, the man, God love him, set his girls free to buy what we wanted.  We’ve raised quite the clotheshorse so I’m not sure who was more excited by this, Kennedy or me.  An exhausted Sean humored me for three and a half hours, giving his asked-for-opinions that were often ignored, before he said uncle.  We had a late lunch and turned in early in preparation of a busy Sunday we had planned.

I woke up far too early for a weekend to go for my weekly half-marathon training group run; seven miles this week.  I got it done, convincing myself not to stop and walk for a good two miles of it, and ultimately breaking a few of my records when it was all said and done.  I felt good but way too tired to have a whole day ahead of me.

This is where the magic of summer comes into play.

Some of my family rented a house not too far from our house on a big lake; big summer spot up here, and they invited us up to spend the day.  Kennedy adores their children so she is always more than entertained when they are around.  Sean got in some golf with my cousins, and I got to spend some quality time with a couple of ladies I really love.  We took the kids for a spin on the boat, swam, I even gave in to their request for me to go down the water slide into the lake- once.  Kennedy “fished” after receiving some expert instructions from the big kids (don’t worry, no hooks, worms, or anything else that could result in me having to attempt to set a fish free), and she showed, once again, how good a big sister she would have been to Jack.  Overall, a great day where, more than once, I found myself wishing I could freeze-frame these bits of summer, simple but special, and utilize them when the going gets tough. 























In some regards I did.

Today was a day I have been anxious about coming for quite a while.  The 7th and 8th grade students- my kids, returned to school today.  I haven’t seen any of them since January.  Only the 8th grade students were told about Jack dying last year and so if any of the new 8th graders or 7th graders knows, it is due to a trickle-down-effect.  I was terrified to go in today and have them ask questions or, maybe worse, have to explain what happened.  You see, I just don’t have a party-line ready yet.  I’m still at a loss of words when I have to explain, out loud, what has happened to my boy.  So, I got myself good and worked up on the drive in to work today, and was thereby grateful to have forgotten to apply any mascara (even waterproof doesn’t stand a chance to my waterworks anymore).  I put on my sunglasses and a brave face as I walked past a group of kids waiting outside the building, dumped my stuff in my office and made a beeline for the coffee pot in the kitchen.  I must have looked rough because as I walked by my friend, whom I love dearly but is clearly nervous about female emotion, he asked if I was all right, I shook my head no but squeaked out that I would be and it took only a moment for him to register that a may have needed a big ‘ole hug.  It was enough for me to take another deep breath and collect myself, bracing for the entrance of the kids. 

As they came in I gave out pounds, smiles, and “welcome backs”, ushering them to morning meeting and homeroom.  One tougher girl, who was not my biggest fan last year, came in.  She had been retained the previous year, meaning she would be repeating the seventh grade this year, and was understandably upset to be arriving to her second first day of grade seven.  I directed her where to go but my super-sharp-counselor-radar kicked on (it’s a thing, look it up).  I could tell she was going to cry and the second I asked if she was okay the tears flowed freely.  I had her wait in my office for a few minutes as I braced myself to absorb someone else’s emotions, something I never thought twice about doing six months ago.  As I walked in and saw her with her face buried in her shirt, it became very clear the kind of morning she was having.  I was having the same kind.

I asked her to look at me.  I told her I got it.  She was anxious about seeing these kids, about facing them and being so vulnerable.  Then I did something I swore up and down for months I wasn’t going to do: I let a kid in.  A little bit anyway.  I told her I was scared about coming back today too, facing all of the kids, and that, truthfully, I had a good cry in the car before I could get myself in the building that morning but we both had to face the day.  I told her that the day was going to keep moving forward and it certainly wasn’t going to wait for her or I to decide if we were ready to face it.  There was a chance it was going to suck but an equal chance that it would be okay, all we had to do was make it through today.  We could worry about tomorrow when we got there.  I told her to take a deep breath with me and we walked out of my office and down the hall to start the day.  I realized, walking back to my office, it was as much a pep talk for myself as it was for her.  But it did the trick; we both made it through the day in one piece.

See?  Bottled up summer magic.  Place your orders today (while supplies last).


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