Preschool starts back next week (Glory!). I have a bone to pick with preschool. If preschool were nicer, it wouldn’t have abandoned me all summer in the raging, never-ending heat. Where were you preschool while I tried to keep the boys alive under the Elmo sprinkler? Where were you while they ate their ice pops in the bathtub because it was too hot in the driveway? Where were you while our family rolled lethargically around the couch demanding goldfish and juice boxes [Toby and Charlie] and pretending to be asleep [me]? Now here you are again just in time for my boys to play outside in the mild(ish) fall weather instead of dangle whiningly from the fridge door. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very glad you came back, but your timing is less than impeccable. 

I forgive you preschool.  Just the sight of your golden head peeking over the horizon like a seraph makes me gracious.  With a couple of free mornings every week, I’m looking forward to sitting in my coffee shop again, plinking out whatever comes to mind and dumping it into cyber space for posterity.  It’s the good life.

Ever-present, in reference to the children. I don’t mean this as a sentimental nod to togetherness. I mean it in the “climbing in my lap while I pee,” “tapping my hip while I cook,” “clawing at my shirt as I type kind of way.” We are only one week sans preschool and my independence is rocking itself back and forth in a forgotten corner.

I know I will miss these days. Even in my current delirium there are moments when it feels good. We loiter around the house like sleepy cats, doing what we want to do. I tickle Charlie right under his collar bone until he laughs so hard he can’t breathe. Toby sits in my lap while I wash the caked dirt off of his feet with a rag. I love those things, I do. Lately, though, there is that “laying out in the sun was heavenly, but now I’m really blistered” factor stifling my pleasure.

Part of it is the constancy. My mental calendar unfolds into one long row of empty boxes marking the pilgrimage to Fall. The bleak highlights: Tues. Shopping at CostCo! Mon.-Thurs. Swimming Lessons! Fri. Trash Day! I see myself bumbling along, leap frogging from one mediocre affair to the next and hoping I don’t drown in my own guilty ungratefulness.

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