Bookstores are at the top of my list of “happy places.”  I can be in a going-postal, sailor-swearing, fire breathing foul mood when I park my car outside of the store, but the moment I cross the threshold, I swear I can hear angels singing, birds chirping and a gentle, calming breeze lathes my face.  Ahhh.

Unfortunately, it also houses small arms weaponry which my son availed himself of yesterday. 

In the corner of the children’s section, there is a table with a Thomas the Tank Engine train track set up, complete with various trains and accessories.  TJ was determined to build the longest stretch of trains known to man…or at least to all the little boys at the table at that time. 

Enter Molly (his sister).

She is a delicate flower.  An angel girl.  She doesn’t see a gaggle of boys and think, “Must show who is boss.  Kill!  Kill!  Kill!”  No.  She thinks, “Hey, a group of boys.  They must be in need of organization, direction and not a little bit of feminine input.  I’ll just help them out and soon they’ll be showering me with praise and adoration for my insight and intellect!”

The end result?  A train (the small arms weaponry) was launched (by my son) at the appropriate target (my daughter) and scored a direct hit (her head).  All I can say is, thank goodness they kept the battle within the family ranks.  Needless to say, we left immediately thereafter.

On the way home, I informed my son of the type of punishment he would receive when we got to our abode.  My daughter, always the ever vigilant one when it comes to fairness and equality, felt that she should receive the punishment too.  When I asked her why this was the case, she suddenly decided she had hit her brother back.  Once.  No wait, five times.  So hence, she deserved the punishment as well. 

Determined not to let this lesson go by, I insisted that not all things are created equal and she would not, in fact, be receiving punishment.  It may be the first time in the history of mankind that a parent yelled, “When we get home you are NOT getting a spanking and that’s final!  I don’t want to hear another word about it!”

However, this did not go well and before the short ride was terminated, my daughter managed to drum up all sorts of invectives in her creative, if nothing else, attempts to secure said punishment. 

So in my great motherly wisdom (new mothers pay careful attention here, for this is important), I pronounced, “Fine.  You will get your mouth washed out with soap instead!”  So there.  Pffft.  (Imagine my tongue sticking out and a not so lady like noise issuing forth).

We got home and my daughter insisted her punishment be enacted immediately.  I did not relish the thought of such an encounter so I did the only thing I could.  I punted. 

“We’ll do it when your father gets home.”  So there, again.

This did not meet with my daughter’s approval and her “fairness meter” was  dropping to dangerously low levels.  I, however, did not give in.  I tuned out her pleading, ranting and raving and simply let the issue go.  At last, she was quiet.  I breathed deeply, enjoying the fruits of my successful mothering skills.  Until my son enlightened me.  Peering cautiously around the corner, he whispered and alas, the enlightenment began.

“Mom!  Molly is sitting outside her door with a bar of soap in her mouth!”

Blank. That is exactly how I felt at his words.  Blank.

“What?”  At last, my voice seemed to have arrived, albeit tardy, to the conversation.

“She’s just sitting there.  With a bar of soap sticking out of her mouth!”

And as if by magic, he produced the object of our discussion.  There she stood in all her glory, proudly displaying a full bar of soap, turning this way and that so I could see it from every vantage point. 

I was furious.  And as I informed her in my most steely, mama-is-PISSED voice, “get back to your room!” I reached for the phone to call my husband.  Someone was going to pay for this outrage.  I don’t know who or why but it just felt good to think that.  And unfortunately, the next thought was to dial my husband’s number.  Go figure.  Anyway, as I told him what was going on, he began to chuckle, then he laughed and before the story was finished, it was an outright guffaw.

Why was he laughing?  This was serious business!  Our daughter was punishing HERSELF!  As he was wiping the tears from his eyes (well, I imagined that part but it adds great depth to the story), he said the one thing I did not want to hear.

“You have got to write this story down.  This is one of the best kids stories ever!”

I could not go near a computer at that moment.  I was not certain my innocent computer would not suffer mightily at my shaking hands.  Deep down, however, I knew he had a point.  So a day has passed and all is well in the Snell battleground.  And as I sit here writing this, I too am chuckling with laughter at the memory.

From my own vantage point, it seemed as if my daughter and I were both fighting to stay on top of the soap box.

The jury is still out on who won.

(TJ going off with his class)
He was very excited.  Almost as excited as his older sister, Molly, who started First Grade today as well.

(Molly with her teacher, Mrs. Traynham)

I kept a weak hold on my tears and emotions, only breaking down once.  I was quite proud, considering my new heightened state of emotional unambiguity (see my post “Not So Happy Pills” at http://www.lynettesnell.com/?p=3).

It’s quite difficult to express the emotions a mother feels as she watches her child go off to school.  All the usual ones sprint through the heart and mind:  Sorrow at them growing up, watching your child (& you) begin a new era of life as an old one passes away, looking toward the future and knowing there is no going back.

But today, one of my friends was standing nearby (his name is Chuck Berry and his daughter Annabeth is in Molly’s class) and as we all waved to our little ones heading off into “the world” without us,  he said, “Yeah, you can almost see them wearing that graduation cap & gown, can’t you?”  Did I need to hear that today?  I quickly informed him that I did not, in fact, need to think about an event which would hold it’s own very real emotional turmoil.  One turmoil at a time, please.

But it started me thinking:  graduation is truly only a bit more than twelve years away.  And since I have just hurtled through half that amount and am now sending my 6-year-old to school, I am inclined to think that Graduation will be here before I know it.  Especially for my daughter who is already one year closer.

I guess it’s a feeling of powerlessness.  I cannot stop the kids from growing up.  I cannot slow them down.  I cannot hurry them along, either (which, depending on the day of the week, I might want to do).  But regardless, this is a major turning point in both my life and that of my son.

As I said, there is no easy way to describe this experience, at least not for my limited expressive abilities.  Either way, it’s an emotional day and while I do not want my kids to be home all day (I need some alone time too!), I am sadden by yet another reminder that their toddler years are truly and completely over.

Graduation is next.

Now that I am a mom, I am making it a purpose that for at least a few days each summer, I take my older nephew and nieces (Ryan who is almost 15, Becca who is 13 1/2, and Elizabeth who will be 7 in August) and keep them with me. We play in whatever way we can and my own kids (Molly, age 7 tomorrow and TJ age 6 on July 27) are starting to expect it too. But I’m still not sure who enjoys it more: the kids or me!

This year, my brother (the father of Ryan, Becca & Elizabeth) and his wife, Ann, kept my kids for two days. It was the first time and my brother loved it. I was thrilled. My brother also has 2 younger children, Maggie, aged 4 1/2 and Nathaniel who just turned 4 in May. They are both Down Syndrome babies. Maggie is their birth child and Nathaniel was adopted from Ukraine in December of 2003. So my brother & his wife have their hands full 5 times over. The 2 oldest are very active in tennis, band camps, mission trips, gymnastics, pageants, etc. The 2 “babies” (as we call them) are in to everything and are true partners in crime. So it meant the world to me that my brother and his wife willingly kept my kids for 2 days…and actually enjoyed it!

Now I am going to make it a solid tradition I think. Summer time = Family Exchange time. I can’t think of a better way to pass the lazy summer days away!

Tracy, my husband, started out by making his wonderful to die for pancakes. He had three “seatings” of pancakes: early birds (my in-laws and children), mid risers (me, my sisters-in-law), and the visitors (the rest of my family). I stuffed myself early on and that was a problem. When my mom arrived, she made my aunt’s famous “road kill dip.” It’s made of ground beef, hormel chili and velveta cheese…all melted and cooked and stirred together in a crock pot. It’s so delicious…I ate so much I almost wished I was the road kill. At least then I would have been flattened and the pressure would have been released.

Then lunch came…tons more food. I felt like I was just standing around eating. I think that is one of the things I hate most about big family gatherings like this. It’s just one large feeding frenzy all day long.

The afternoon (after several snoozes around the house) was spent shooting water guns at each other. No one was sacred: grandma’s, babies…everyone was fair game. I was so drenched (thanks to my 15 year old nephew) that I had to change my clothes. My mother even jumped in the fray and began shooting water guns at anything and anyone who walked by. It was wonderful to see her acting so youthful. She tends to be too “old” for her age sometimes and I like to see her acting young and foolish on occasion. My mother-in-law, Ann, is an 18 year old trapped in a 72 year old’s body. She always acts young and foolish! One of her best traits.

Another activity to while away the hours was target shooting with a bee-bee gun. We took turns trying to shoot the target and see who could get the bulls eye. I’m proud to say yours truly hit closest to the mark: One ring from the center. No one else got close!

The evening was spent on the St. John’s River swimming and jet skiing. My in-laws (Fred & Ann) live in St. Augustine. Because they have this wonderful place on the river, we generally don’t spend much time in St. Augustine itself. We have so much to do at the river!

We are now experiencing the traditional Florida afternoon/evening rains. Once they are done, we hope to have a wonderful early fireworks display off the dock.

It’s just tradition and it’s a great one. We had a wonderful day and I’m thrilled I got to spend it with my family, after all!

I love my family dearly. I can’t wait to spend the next 36-48 hours with them. But I also enjoy when they will be gone. I know they will be happy to get back to their own lives too.

I am interested in how it will all play out. My family has its own nuances, just like any other family. Being married doubles the fun. Not only do I get to “experience” my own family’s weirdness, I get to indulge in a little bit of in-law insanity too! And being completely fair, they get a glimpse of my own “Jekyll & Hyde Nature.”

The fun will begin soon. Here we go!

Suddenly I was seeing spots. And not the ones on her precious little pj’s. The ones floating in my eyes as the blood red fury slowly swelled up inside.

“That’s it!” I hollered. “I quit! I am never again going to put your laundry away. You are old enough to do it yourself. If you want underwear, go get it and put it away yourself!”

I left huffing and puffing down the hallway, muttering to myself, ” ‘Where’s my underwear?’ Who does she think I am? Her maid?”

I went down the hall to my 6-year old son’s room, meaning to kiss him good night, only to find him absent from his room. I said his name (in my sweetest motherly voice), “TJ?” I got no answer. So I said his name again (this time more in my best “Attila the Hun” voice), “TEEEEEEJAAAAAAAAAAYYY!”

“I’m out here mom!” His little voice yelled. I went stomping out into the family room hollering, “What are you doing? You are supposed to be in bed!”

“I’m using this cart to bring my clothes to my room.”

I could hear the wheels rolling along the tile flooring. Instantly I knew what was coming. I waited until TJ came around the corner pushing the toy grocery shopping cart, filled with? You guessed it, his clean clothes from the laundry room.

He happily pushed his cart down the hallway and into his room where he proceeded to put his clothes away.

I just hugged and kissed on him. It was so sweet…so innocent. There was not one iota of guile or manipulation in his sweet face. I was overcome. And immediately felt guilty. Here I was fawning over my son when my daughter was back in her room. Our dispute still unresolved.

I sat down for about 30 minutes. I knew it would come, and it did. Molly comes out and says, “Can you come here for a minute?”

I got up and went to her room. Not only had she put away all of her clothes, but she had taken everything out her drawers, refolded it and placed it neatly back in her drawers.Once again, I was completely overwhelmed and humbled. Children do that to a parent. Repeatedly and quite often.

I think it was about the 4th time that day for me.