Well now, that was some August. Ranking in the top three of life's most challenging months, surpassing September 1960 when I was plunked into a second grade classroom in NYC speaking no English and knowing no one in the whole skyscraper filled city besides my parents and my sister and my sister was in a similar predicament many corridors and classrooms away. Surpassing, too, May 1994 when my brain exploded. I survived that without lasting damage except the damage done to my confidence that weird things dont happen to boring normal people. Up there with March 2026 when I lost Henry, though that month had positives in it as well, so I can't count it as a complete downer. And this August wasn't a complete downer either. All those grandkids! All those roses! But yes, also all that illness. Not mine, which in a way makes it worse.
So now along comes September. An early wake-up for me today. Looking out the front door, I see a mist over the wetlands. Gentle hues of pink and apricot.
Tradition has it that I take the first day of school photo of the grandkids. It is a tad exasperating that little Sandpiper does not start school until tomorrow, so that I will have to beat dawn again in my wake-up, and drive over to his house tomorrow, but there you have it. Schools set the rules, we follow.
These two start today!
Snowdrop, 6th grade, Sparrow 3rd.
So long as I am there with my car, I drive these kids to their respective schools. They are both excited, though Sparrow makes sure that I know that he is NOT happy with his seat assignment next to his MORTAL ENEMY. I say to him -- at least you wont have every class with her. Ever the helpful older sister, Snowdrop chirps in -- in third grade, you dont switch classrooms for classes. I remind her that apart from being a Debbie Downer to her brother, she is also incorrect, as he has music, art, P.E, library, technology -- all in different rooms, with different teachers and different seating assignments. Miss-pleased-with-her-own-life muses out loud -- maybe they'll all keep the same seating chart. She knows darn well that they do not keep the same seating chart, but this is how these two sometimes encourage each other. And indeed, in two minutes, the subject changes and she is reassuring her brother, reminding him that he will not have his OTHER MORTAL ENEMY (a different one -- an 8 year old boy is likely to have more than one mortal enemy) at his Young Shakespeare Players fall show (which in fact isn't a Shakespeare play, but hey...).
(off he goes while we watch...)
Snowdrop's school starts later and she still needs an addition to her lunch box, so she and I swing by the grocery store and then I get in line to drop her off. Mindful of her age and her peers, she warns me -- gaga, you are not going to get out and take my photo as you did with my brother! Can I at least do it from inside the car?? I remind her that she still has a year and four months to go before she is a teenager.
I then go home to eat breakfast with my shaggy waggy Millie.
She is so overjoyed to see me that it hurts. Oh, Millie! Hang on -- I just have to snip off a few spent roses... (she watches... her eyes never leave me.)
Breakfast in a minute, little one! (For me. Millie of course has had hers hours ago.)
My pup does need a fur trim. She has an appointment at noon and I take her to it, reminding her as we get out of the car that she loves the play time she has there in and around the grooming. For the first time, she hesitates. No bounding in today. And as we slowly enter, two dogs that are in the holding pen let out fierce sounding growls and barks. The groomer comes out to tell me -- they are not friendly. No kidding! True, they are separated from the rest but they are loud and obnoxious. Millie immediately drops her tail to its lowest position and has to be pulled inside the grooming room. Thankfully, there is another pup there, equally terrified. Maybe they'll form a small mutual support group against the monsters behind the gate.
A quick stop at home to clean the birdhouse. This is a necessity, unless I want to infect all birds with some horrible disease that will further deplete our dwindling bird populations. There are many birdhouses in my neighborhood and I have to wonder if we are at all dutiful enough about cleaning and disinfecting them. Likely not. It's a yukky job and tough to do well. We can talk ourselves out of pretty much anything if we try hard enough.
Lunch: I make myself a cup of coffee from the Cafe Joyeux batch, not because I believe a change from August to September will bring with it a completely joyous and carefree set of days, but because I am of the belief that until you're sick and dying, you can always improve on what's there before you. Sipped in the car, with a granola bar.
And now it's time to pick up Sparrow. He's first to go and first to return. All this will shift a little as the kids will start riding the bus in a couple of weeks, but for now it's business as usual -- I wait in line, at the front of the line in fact, to get the elementary school kids (just one today) and bring them (him) home.
Guess what? -- He asks me right away. She changed her mind. Who? What? The girl I sit next to. We're not enemies anymore.
I take him home, feed him, listen to his brother explain all his car and truck formations...
... and go to pick up Snowdrop.
Back at their house, Goose, their very large dog is sniffing me and wagging his tail so fiercely that my bare legs (shorts weather) will surely have scars. I think he needs a walk.
The three of us (Sandpiper, Snowdrop and I) take him for a stroll.
I've walked Goose before. But this time, two things happened: he spotted a squirrel, and he saw two dogs up the block. In both instances I pulled him back so hard that I was sure my arms would leave their sockets. I think my "walking Goose days" are nearing an end. He is significantly stronger than me.
And now I have to dash to the other side of town because Millie is done with her grooming session. I understand she also got a face massage out of the deal. (Did you know dogs love facial massages? I did not, until this week.)
Walk time, my little one!
And of course, stand on the chair, look out the window and bark time too. Millie needs a dose of this before she can relax.
A tired girl. Tired me! But happy for the kids. By tomorrow, all my grands will be in school. And I'm confident that all of them will be (mostly) happy there. And that's such a good thing.
Have a grand September all you school bound young ones! Work hard, make lasting friendships, stay optimistic!
with so much love...
