Vacation???

"Vacation, all I ever wanted..." - The Go-Go's

Teachers...we do it for the love of children, for the hope of a better future, for the sake of humankind...and for summer vacation. Any teacher that tells you any different is a martyristic liar (or a masochist). Seriously, if you see an abnormally large amount of happy adults in the next 6-10 weeks, it's not the latest descendent of Prozac...it's just a bunch of teachers on summer vacation.

Then there are those teachers who just trade in our Smartboard pens for Smart Mops. I'm talking about those of us that are in for a summer of being  SAHMS (stay-at-home-moms)...without the luxury of a six hour school day to keep the wolves...I mean our kids...at bay. Sure there's summer camp, but how many teacher moms have 6k-12k per camper to spend? Those women aren't teachers...they are either high powered execs, doctors, lawyers, or married to one and have the glorious choice of not going to work.

Alas, there's always town camp. I've been a (partially) free woman for a little over 48 hours now and thanks to town camp I have time to myself to marathon train (of course) and grocery shop and get the car serviced. Add to that list an after camp hours trip to the dentist and the vet and we are really partying hard. I may have looked kind of bad ass (or insane) pulling into camp pick up blasting the Beastie Boys, but so far this summer vacation has been catching up on all the crap that gets swept under the carpet from September to June. We haven't even gotten to the pool yet. 

And speaking of the pool, going to the pool is like birthing babies. There's a dude in every woman's brain that erases all memories of child birth so that two years later she decides that doing it all over again is a splendid idea. This is the same schmuck who controls the pool memories. All year long I dream of the pool...forgetting that with kids it's more of a nightmare. Getting dressed for the pool is as exhausting as getting ready to make a snowman...I'm looking at you sunscreen. Then there's the chairs, blanket, towels, dry clothes, toys and snacks you have to pack. Pack enough snacks or you will be bankrupted by the overpriced pool snack-shack. By the time we get there I'm spent and all that effort doesn't feel worth it for an afternoon of, "Hey mom watch me do this." Anybody who has taken a kid 12 or under to the pool knows exactly what I'm talking about...and they know if you aren't truly watching.

But, then there are those moments.The ones where the receptionist at the vet isn't giving you the stink eye because your children ignore your pleas to step off the dog scale. When you aren't 10 minutes late to camp drop off because getting dressed takes an extra 20 minutes because they have to play "naked show." (Why do kids like running around naked anyway?) The moments when you are all  in the car singing Love Shack at the top of your lungs...eating cereal for lunch because they asked for that...sharing a mid afternoon ice cream...and catching a minute or two between "Hey mom watch this" to actually read something more than a children's picture book.  The moments I really reconnect with my kids and develop all these inside jokes and memories that are just ours. Those are the moments that make it all worth it. It is the most wonderful time of the year if you ask me. Sunscreen and all. 

*Miles ran (so far) this week 13. Days until marathon 127 .

Grad It's Over...

"Children get older, and I'm getting older too." - Fleetwood Mac

Today my most recent fifth grade class graduated elementary school. It was an emotionally charged morning; a blend of triumph, anticipation, and relief. When I look at all that has been accomplished since September I could say that it was the longest school year ever. Then, again, when I think of how long that journey seemed ten months ago, I can say it really wasn't. Trust me nobody appreciates a good summer respite more than I do...but at the same time I'm just...not...ready.

I have a love-hate relationship with graduations. I love the excitement, the formality, the hope in the eyes of the young...the pride in the eyes of their parents, but I so hate the finality. I'm not one for emotion..but I'm huge on nostalgia...and the nostalgia gets me. Just ask the father in front of me last year when my twins graduated pre-K. I finally stopped trying to hide my rare wave of emotion and blubbered like a pathetic sap. "Why are you crying?", he turned around and inquired. "Think of all the money we will be saving! This is the best day of my life!"

One year, and a lot less financial burden later, I see his point and laugh at just how the site of pint sized graduates in teeny caps and gowns drove me to become a sobbing mess...until Kindergarten moving up day. Once again there I was trying to make sure that nobody could see me welling up during "The Garden Song." This time I was able to keep more of a handle on myself...perhaps it was the absence of the teeny caps and gowns...or it could be that I was busy trying to silently will twin A to sing and stand still from my seat way back in the rear of the audience. Fortunately I have another 5 years before I have to hide my graduation tears again...but at 41 I realize 5 years is really not much time.

Tonight the high schoolers in my home district are having their graduation. I know this because the district has exercised every form of modern communication to let both my husband and I know this. "Our kids just finished your K program...stop freaking me out," I feel like emailing, texting, and calling back.  And so on a much needed run this evening to get my emotions out, I passed all the balloon festooned mailboxes of homes where high school seniors are getting ready to spread their wings and make that first jump from their pristine suburban nests. Nests feathered just "yesterday" when their parents, like myself, moved into a neighborhood where they could raise them. Nests where just "yesterday" they were singing "The Garden Song" in preparation for Kindergarten moving up day. They, like me, were not ready for it all to move so fast.

Maybe this is why I love running so much. Life moves so fast...but ask any runner and they will tell you...nothing slows down time like a run. Ticking clocks are no match for ticking mileage. As my children move to first grade, and my students move to middle school, and the class of 2017 moves beyond the shelter of the local school system the only thing I can do is let go and try to treasure and savor the miles in my life the way I savor the miles out on the road. 

Many years separate the class of 2017 from the class of 2029...but in the blink of an eye it will be my mailbox that boasts those shiny badges of the ending of their first chapter...and my most treasured one. It's going to come quicker than I want and I won't be ready...and I'll once again be blubbering in some poor dad's ear...and with the knowledge of the cost of college...he will probably be crying too. 

*Miles ran this week 12. Days until marathon 134 .