The Wheels On The Bus

We have week #1 of Kindergarten tucked under our belts. And I use the "we" generously since it was a transition for all of us last week. The bus ride, the outside the building pick up and drop off, the "I have no idea what you did all day" -- those were opportunities for reorientation for me that apparently barely registered on the actual kindergartener. She says her days are great, she's making friends, she's ready to replace Charlie on the MTA and become Molly on the yellow school bus (except she actually doesn't want to get off versus not being able to get off). I have no idea what is actually happening at school since getting information out of the lock box isn't ever easy (why can I find out the play by play of a Wild Kratts episode but cannot hear who she sat next to at snack?) but I can easily tell that she's found her rhythm already and is off and running. Little brother is embarking on his school year next, and that familiar routine of school days is on the horizon, which is comfortable and comforting despite all the big changes we've achieved over the last several months. After a very fun summer, one where I wouldn't have changed a thing, I'm happy to slip back on the familiar threads of the school year. Though spring is traditionally the time of rebirth and regeneration, when your life is centered around school-aged children, the fall usurps that traditional cycle of mother nature. And while they are off and exploring and experiencing, I have a little more quiet in the house, which is both welcome and a reminder of the other things people are doing and that they are off on journeys elsewhere. I am thankful for the little break from the constant-ness of small people. I certainly miss overhearing the stories from the playroom and the conversations and snacks under the quilt forts (while decidedly not missing the bickering and tattling) but I take a great deal of comfort knowing that they will resume sometime after 3:00 and while I might not know what happened during the school day, I can rest assured that I'll know what every pirate, dancer, ice skater, baby, and other random assortment of characters is doing during the great toy takeout of the afternoon. The balance of new and old, of known and unknown is exciting and peaceful and helpful to tuck away in the back of my mind. It makes the inevitable bumbs along our roads easier to weather, aware that we strive towards homeostasis and balance.