In orbit

photo by Thomas Bush

It is back to school time here. School supplies have been successfully wrangled from the local madhouse, I mean superstore. I'm proud to report there were no casualties. Although there were a few dicey moments.

No you may not have the purple folder. There’s no purple on the supply list. It clearly says blue. My God! Why do they even make purple?

What? They don't have blue?

Oh, well, grab that purple and tell your teacher you’re color blind.

Yes, it’s okay to lie as long as Mommy tells you to do it.

So, yeah. Super proud of my parenting. And let’s not even talk about the little outburst I may have had when my son rammed the cart into my Achilles for the tenth time.

Moving on . . .

Daughter started a new school this year. She’s in intermediate school, which is farther away and bigger and scarier, at least for me. She’s doing fine. Loves it, in fact. I’m still struggling to figure out how I feel about all this growing up stuff.

I don’t want to smother her, but I fear it may be in my nature. Knowing this, I’m careful to check in with her. You know, make sure she can still breathe.

There’s a fine line to balance as a parent. On the one hand, she needs to become more responsible, make more difficult decisions on her own, and learn to solve tricky problems (both in and out of math class). However, I’m not about to turn in my Mommy-card, yet (let’s be real here - ever!).

At breakfast the other morning, I asked if she minded me waiting at the bus stop (a.k.a. our driveway) with her in the mornings. She shrugged and reassured me.

“It doesn’t bother me, Mom.”

My heart soared. Then she continued,

“There’s no one on the bus when I get on.”

Heart. Shredded.

I laughed because it was too early in the morning to cry, and joked with her.

But if someone were on the bus, then I’d have to hide my horrid face, right?

She chuckled, “No, Mom! You don’t embarrass me . . .”

Wait for it . . .

“Yet.”

Since then, I’ve done a lot of thinking about the shapes of our paths. I’ve decided to take heart in the knowledge that planets orbit the sun not in perfect circles, but in ellipses.

I've yet to decide which of us is the sun and which is a planet. Or maybe we're both planets? I feel like I'm slipping into some strange philosophical discussion of child-centered parenting, which is not the point. I'll be the sun. I'm the sun. It's all about me.

If I were writing this post about my son though, we'd totally both be suns. (Cue theme music) Our lives would be set in a galaxy far, far away. 

But I digress . . .

Ellipses. We're talking about ellipses. Planets travel in lovely squashed circles. Daughter may travel far from me at times, but if I hold my arms out, just so, there will be moments when her path will intersect my own, which means I can still grab hold of my little girl and hug her tightly.

As long as no one else is on the bus. Yet.