Well that’s what I tell myself anyway. There are 7 and 10 years difference between my daughter and her older brothers. You forget what it was like having a child in elementary school. All the work and worse ...open house.
“At age 43 I find myself back in a Kindergarten classroom filled with colorful alphabet charts and sight words, I was offered the tiny seat at her desk. It’s been 7 years since I last plopped into a junior-sized chair without a thought, and this time I was painfully aware that my knees aren't what they used to be. I hear a distinctive creeeeaaaaak as I slowly sat but played it off like it was the chair squeaking.
I’m confident I’m the oldest mom in the class by a long shot. That’s what happens when you have a child in your late 30s, and now I’m thinking the “at-risk” category really spans the entire first 18 years of their life. It starts with not being able to run as fast after a toddler and ends with the risk of not having the energy to handle a teen in your 50s.
The patience and enthusiasm for shoe box dioramas were lost many years ago, and I dread once again being thrust into the world of science fair show boards and clay depictions of the first Thanksgiving. Last minute costume creations, remembering the class snack, and signing off on the folder daily cause great stress. Seven years ago I had more energy for such things.
I’m sweating. “Is it hot in here?!”