The windows are still open to cool, comfortable air, but this morning there's the sound of rain humming softly through the house. More than a sprinkle, but not a downpour, just a steady, rhythmic spattering of sound. I enjoy rain.
Emily leaves for a field trip to the state capital and the zoo today. I guess I went to bed worried about being late for her to catch the charter bus that would leave by 7:00 to take them. Several times through the night I sat straight up, rubbing my eyes and searching out the glowing clock face to see how late I had overslept. Shortly before 4:00 I woke in a panic to the sound of chirping outside my window. I didn't know birds were awake at that time of day and I was sure I had done the unforgivable and made Emily miss the bus. What a relief to see that I had two more hours to sleep. Must have just been the early birds. You really do have to be on the ball to beat them, I guess. There were a few more jolts awake before 6:00, but I managed to sleep soundly between them to the lullaby of rain outside.
In the end, I did not oversleep and Emily arrived at school with time to spare before the charter buses left.
She is so excited. It's her first big field trip. They are traveling three hours away from home on a bus that has televisions and a bathroom, she'd heard. Even the rain didn't dampen her spirits as she rolled out of bed this morning. She walked around the house with her jacket on and her lunch bag clutched in her hand, the camera tucked safely away in the tote that held things to entertain herself with on the bus, oblivious to the fact that her peanut butter and jelly sandwich was getting smooshed between the plastic juice bottle and banana.
"It'll be ok," she said gleefully when I tried to rearrange things inside the paper bag to protect the sandwich, "I'm going to chew it up anyway."
Kid logic.
It's 7:32 now according to the clock on my computer. I guess those big buses have loaded up and are on the highway at this point. I'm sure the kids are chattering excitedly about the day they are about to experience. For most of them it is the first major outing without their parents (the teachers don't count, I hear). It tastes like freedom. And it's sweet.
I am excited for her, really. The pure joy in her eyes this morning, the smile she couldn't stop smiling, the happy giggles...I know what it is to her. I remember my first field trip too. But I worry that I couldn't convince her to choose an actual rain coat instead of the hooded jacket that is sure to be soaked through within minutes if the rain doesn't stop. It's going to be cold if she gets soaked. I wonder if that sandwich will be edible by the time they sit for lunch and just what back up plans they had for their picnic in the case of rain. Will there be a shelter or will kids be huddled together under the branches of trees trying to keep their chips from getting rain soaked. Will Em be able to rein her excitement enough to notice when her group turns to leave one gloriously cool place and move on to another? That's mom logic, I guess. Unreasonable, maybe, but completely unavoidable for me.
It's probably not the field trip at all. I am confident in her teacher and the woman whose group Em is assigned to. This trip to the capital has been standard for kids since I was in elementary school. It's practically a right of passage. And therein lies my problem, I think. It's that passage - that moving on to the age where you're now reasonable enough that a group of adults can handle a group of kids that outnumber them at least 5 to 1.
It's the growing up.
It's the letting go.
Emily leaves for a field trip to the state capital and the zoo today. I guess I went to bed worried about being late for her to catch the charter bus that would leave by 7:00 to take them. Several times through the night I sat straight up, rubbing my eyes and searching out the glowing clock face to see how late I had overslept. Shortly before 4:00 I woke in a panic to the sound of chirping outside my window. I didn't know birds were awake at that time of day and I was sure I had done the unforgivable and made Emily miss the bus. What a relief to see that I had two more hours to sleep. Must have just been the early birds. You really do have to be on the ball to beat them, I guess. There were a few more jolts awake before 6:00, but I managed to sleep soundly between them to the lullaby of rain outside.
In the end, I did not oversleep and Emily arrived at school with time to spare before the charter buses left.
She is so excited. It's her first big field trip. They are traveling three hours away from home on a bus that has televisions and a bathroom, she'd heard. Even the rain didn't dampen her spirits as she rolled out of bed this morning. She walked around the house with her jacket on and her lunch bag clutched in her hand, the camera tucked safely away in the tote that held things to entertain herself with on the bus, oblivious to the fact that her peanut butter and jelly sandwich was getting smooshed between the plastic juice bottle and banana.
"It'll be ok," she said gleefully when I tried to rearrange things inside the paper bag to protect the sandwich, "I'm going to chew it up anyway."
Kid logic.
It's 7:32 now according to the clock on my computer. I guess those big buses have loaded up and are on the highway at this point. I'm sure the kids are chattering excitedly about the day they are about to experience. For most of them it is the first major outing without their parents (the teachers don't count, I hear). It tastes like freedom. And it's sweet.
I am excited for her, really. The pure joy in her eyes this morning, the smile she couldn't stop smiling, the happy giggles...I know what it is to her. I remember my first field trip too. But I worry that I couldn't convince her to choose an actual rain coat instead of the hooded jacket that is sure to be soaked through within minutes if the rain doesn't stop. It's going to be cold if she gets soaked. I wonder if that sandwich will be edible by the time they sit for lunch and just what back up plans they had for their picnic in the case of rain. Will there be a shelter or will kids be huddled together under the branches of trees trying to keep their chips from getting rain soaked. Will Em be able to rein her excitement enough to notice when her group turns to leave one gloriously cool place and move on to another? That's mom logic, I guess. Unreasonable, maybe, but completely unavoidable for me.
It's probably not the field trip at all. I am confident in her teacher and the woman whose group Em is assigned to. This trip to the capital has been standard for kids since I was in elementary school. It's practically a right of passage. And therein lies my problem, I think. It's that passage - that moving on to the age where you're now reasonable enough that a group of adults can handle a group of kids that outnumber them at least 5 to 1.
It's the growing up.
It's the letting go.
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