My kids started school today.
I KNOW! We start wicked early but that’s a really good thing because OHMYFREAKINGHECK do my kids need to be around some other kids. And out of my butt hair.
Thursday was open house at their respective schools…the girls at the same elementary school and Nathaniel at *gulp* middle school.
I am blown away by my children and the awesomeness they dribble into my life every day and I am going to give them to these people for large chunks of every day and there are just things I WISH I could say to them…these teachers….the people who are going to impact the changes in my maturing babies.
So, instead of marring my children’s reputations RIGHT off the bat, I will leave my heart here. These are the letters I would love to send their school.
Dear Middle School,
Today as my son, entering sixth grade, makes his way through your halls I worry. I worry for my boy that looks so grown-up in my eyes until I see him standing next to the gargantuan eighth-graders you apparently grow like redwoods around these parts. He looks small. He looks vulnerable. He looks so very young. Keep him safe. Help build in him the confidence we try to instill at home…the strength of heart to recognize the moments when standing firm against things that are wrong are most important…the love of learning that can only be fostered through challenge and encouragement. And if you could get those eighth grade girls to maybe bind those boobs of theirs, that would be much appreciated. HOW is a boy supposed to concentrate on algebra with all that…errr…bouncing going on?
Dear Third Grade,
Please hug Rachael. No words, no public acknowledgement means more to her than a simple hug that says “You did a good job.” She will hold onto the memory of that hug and keep it for the moments that she is struggling. My girl has the best laugh, but she also has the softest heart…so if you could maybe watch out for it, I would be eternally thankful. This is the age that girls start to get mean…catty…those learned attributes that make me want to shake the pearls off some mothers. I am trusting you to protect her as best you can, while still allowing her to stand on her own two sturdy little feet. She’s a talkative little beast, so please be patient, I don’t know where she gets it she comes by it honestly. I hope that you are able to see the light in her beautiful eyes and laugh with her. And don’t forget the hugs.
I hope someday you understand the gift you are being given. YOU get to teach one of the most incredible children you will ever lay eyes on. I know all parents think that, but Peyton is a very special little girl. She’s not your average kindergartner. She has been through more in her five years than most of the teachers walking the halls will ever know. You don’t have to handle her carefully…she’s strong. You don’t have to worry about her…I do enough of that on my own. She knows she’s different from most kids…not in any way she could ever define, but she knows it. Please don’t let the kids make fun of her hair….her scars…the little differences that make her awesome. I will not be crying when I leave my girl at your door, but I will be shredded into a million little pieces inside when she walks away. My pride in her so large it will threaten to burst. So, when I tell you I am giving you one of my most prized gifts, you’d better take care of her. Don’t make me use my loud, grown-up voice.
Just between you and me.
Don’t tell anyone, but I’ll be watching the clock, straining towards pick-up time.