School's Out for Summer

You kind of have to say that title in an Alice Cooper state of mind, if you get my drift.

N made this:

I know, I know, it looks like a stock photo but it isn't, I swear N drew this.  Oh, and by the way, that is exactly what his school looks like, faceless teacher, swirly sun, school bell, giant flowers and all.

"No more pencils, no more books, no more teacher's dirty faceless scary creepy looks."


The boys are sad to see the year come to a close.  They are mostly upset because they won't see their friends.

I am sad to see the year close as well; they really learned a lot these past months, their math and reading skills have blossomed and socially they are well-adjusted and happy.  In fact, they nailed First Grade.

Let's see how badly I can screw that up this summer.  Just kidding... I hope.


(I was going to end it there, but... I'm not going to.)


Someone recently accused me (well not actually me but "parents today," of which I am only slightly aligned because I do have kids, but I am much older than most "parents today," not that I mind, but it does change things a bit) of hypervigilance.

Now I can see sometimes where I might seem like a 'helicopter parent' in flight school, I get that.  I suppose I am a little too involved and concerned about my kids.  I guess I do keep their feelings and well-being at the forefront of my life and, perhaps, I am overly involved in their business.  Yes, I coach their teams, volunteer at their school, drive them to play-dates and, in general, try to do what I can for them.

I don't do it all because I think others can't or that I can do it better (have you seen me coach soccer, I had ten kids going the wrong way one game).  I don't do it to impress others or to brag about how great my team and kids are.  I don't do any of this stuff because I think it will make them better people or because I feel I have to.  Nope.

I do this because I love them and love is a verb.

There is an old-timey word, also a verb, that I still like to use, mind, as in "mind that rattlesnake" or "can you mind the children while I drink this bottle of scotch."  I like that it puts the responsibility of tending to something right up there in our heads; we care with our minds, we care with concern, we care with patience, with words, with actions, with intent and constancy.

So, be sure to mind your children, think of them, consider them, do for them and love them with a tangible ferocity that they will remember, always and forever.