Family

A letter to my kids on the first day of school

Posted on August 17, 2020 by Be still Family Mama stuff

Dear Girls,

You’ve got a big day today. This would have been a big day no matter what – one of you blasting into a new year of school like a pro and one of you stepping into a whole new world as a kindergartner. That alone would have been big for our family. 

If I’m honest, I’ve been dreading this day for a long time. The day any parent sends their littlest love off to school for the first time is a signal, marking the end of squishy cheeks and sweet baby smells, and sling-shotting you into some time warp where we come out the other side stunned and emotional and find ourselves sending you off to college, off to work, or down some aisle. That part is freaky, but I know it can happen. I’ve met the moms who came before me and baby, I ain’t ready. 

It’s also the day that we get most excited and proud and dreamy about all the friends you are about to make, the things you are about to learn, and how downright adorable you are in your first-day-of-school digs. You are never more perfect or precious in our eyes than when we are about to witness you do something new and we are forced to loosen our grip. Yeesh. You. Are. SO. Precious. 

Except this day, this school year, this…time…will be different. It will be exciting and strange and bittersweet just like it should be, but it will also be historic. You, my loves, are about to make history.

Today, you become the kids that did it. You become the kids that experienced education and childhood like no other kids before you. You will be the experiment, the study, the proof, and the lesson for all the kids behind you. And us parents, we will become the first that had to figure out how to let you do that. Just between you and me, not one of us knows exactly what we’re doing here.

While so much is uncertain about tomorrow and every day after that, there are a few things I do know, and I want you to carry these little nuggets with you. Listen hard. It’s important.

#1 – Your teachers are real life superheroes. Most people have known this for years – that teachers literally have the ability to change the trajectory of a life – but we’ve never ever had to acknowledge that they also have a major hand in making the rest of the world go ‘round. If COVID-19 is Thanos, they are the Avengers, fighting the most obvious villain of our time while also working to keep the usual bad guys at bay – vast inequity, threats to safety, food insecurity, neglect and abuse, bullying, anxiety, and well, anything else that could prevent a child from having a bright future. 

They didn’t sign up for what’s about to go down and they don’t feel completely prepared. They will face brand new challenges this year, they’ll make some mistakes, they will be judged and criticized by people who don’t know the half of their burden, but they will be there. They will be there for you, for me, for your classmates, and for each other.

There is no way to train for a time like this (and if there were, there wasn’t time), but here they are, standing strong and resilient and smart and fun. They’re wingin’ it like the rest of us, only they have the superpower to still make you feel safe and loved and excited about learning. They’ll be the ones giving you memories of silly songs and great stories and genuine encouragement in the middle of a pandemic. THEY will also be making history.

They are the real deal, and if I could, I’d send them all on a year-long vacation with all the happiness and relaxation they could handle because they undoubtedly deserve it – so does everyone else in charge of anything right now. Do what they say, and smile with your eyes when they can’t see your mouth behind that mask. Grin like you mean it when they can’t hear your giggles from your muted computer microphone – your smiles and laughter are what gives them their superpower. 

#2 – Being kind is more important than being smart. This is one thing that I hope we’ve already taught you. Nevertheless, you are my kids and it might be in your blood to cry if you don’t get a perfect grade. Stop that. Perfection was a myth before this mess, and it’s definitely not a real thing now. I expect you to do your very best work always, but to be clear on where to find success in school and in life, it’s in the way you treat the people around you, AND in the way you treat yourself. 

Some of the kids in your school missed some meals this summer. Some of their parents lost their jobs, and others worked themselves silly. Some of your classmates can hardly breathe in that mask. Some don’t have anyone at home to help if their internet quits working and some don’t have the internet at all. Some of your friends are anxious and sad and afraid because all they’ve heard since March is how awful this year is going to be. Some just need to get out of the house. Remember that we never ever know what someone else is going through, and when you have the chance, always always be kind. 

Showing kindness kid-style while practicing social distancing might seem a little tricky at first. You can’t actually sit next to each other, hugs aren’t allowed, and even sharing is off the table. I know you though, and I know that you will find new ways to help each other through this crazy reality. Pay attention to the kids in your class. Say good morning to each other. Come up with secret hand signals. Give each other compliments. Learn how to air-five, or better yet, wink! I can’t wait for the day when you and your friends get to tackle each other to the ground in a giant group bear hug, but I also can’t wait to see what you come up with in 2020. Kind kids are the coolest. 

#3 – We are going to make it at home. If the spring was any indication of what this coming school year could be, I’m at least thankful that we had it, learned a few things, and got the heck out of there fast. I was SO proud of the way you handled it when you suddenly had to sit next to me in class, both of us desperately trying to make sense of our web calls and homework and dining room table desk space at the same time. I am NOT proud of that one day I truly cracked, when you caught me in the bathroom sobbing and I offered you the chance to try out a cuss word “because sometimes us girls just have to sit on the side of the bathtub and say S%#@!” That was not my finest moment as a mom, but girlfriends, it was real. 

Though nothing will ever compete with how much you love being in school and with your friends, these last few months have been as magical as they have been maddening. I will never forget the joy of getting our together-time back, the relief of slowing down, and the blessing of staying at home as a family. We have learned so much from this beautiful chaotic awful disaster already, and I promise you now that we will never stop learning. 

We might not have a flawless strategy for what each school day will look like. We might find out that what we thought would work for our family doesn’t work at all. We might say some more ugly words in the bathroom – NO WE WILL NOT – but we might still cry a little from time to time. However it goes it’s ok, we are in this, we are committed to each other, we will adapt and grow and stay positive, and in the end we’ll make it I swear. You can count it as truth just like I do because Jesus and Jon Bon Jovi said so. 

#4 – Finally, just know this is all part of The Plan. Never in a million years would I have predicted this for you. You were supposed to follow the schedule, check the boxes, do all the things that we imagined you’d do. But of all the lessons that 2020 has shoved in front of us so far, the one about all the ways we are NOT in control is my favorite. 

We can write our plans on sticky notes or even in the sky, but our plans are only as good as what our earthly minds know. The truth is that WE don’t have the ability to really know ANYTHING about what’s next, but we know who does, and I can guarantee that His plans are far greater than anything we thought to put on our kitchen calendar. 

Let’s open our hearts to the inconveniences and our eyes to our privilege. Let’s start our day in prayer and thanksgiving and not exhaustion and defeat. Let’s learn to lean on God again instead of ourselves, and then let’s see where this thing goes. 

And if all this is too much to take in on your first day of school (especially since one of you can’t actually read yet), I’ll wake you and squeeze you and feed you and kiss you and together we’ll tackle the first day of your grandchildrens’ history books, one lesson at a time. 

Have fun. Be good. I love you most. 

Mama

The girl with the grocery store feet

Posted on October 16, 2019 by 'Round here Family

Just a few steps east of the stoplight, where 158 meets Highway 35, sits an aged and weathered store, a vacant restaurant, and the most cherished memory vault of my entire adolescence. I drove by it a few weeks ago just like I do every time I go back to visit or pass through – slowly – half wanting to stop and spend hours exploring, and half wanting to run like hell.

I’ve been inside only once in the last decade, naive to the real effect this place had had on me, thinking that I could actually walk in and grab a block of cheese and a quick hint of my childhood and be on my way. (Bah!) I didn’t get the cheese on that trip.

Instead, I realized quickly that the nice man behind the counter wasn’t Miss Becky or Miss Deanie, that it wasn’t 1994, and I was either going to puke or sob if I didn’t back away fast. I made it to the car before the ugly crying started. Whew – wasn’t expecting that.

Once upon a time this place was my Disneyland. It was full of candy and hand trucks to ride, and some of the greatest characters of my happy childhood’s movie. I can still hear the sound of my daddy’s key in the lock and smell the can of Pledge behind the checkout counter. I can hear the loud hum of the back room and taste the chocolate-covered peanuts and peanut brittle that no other Christmas candy will ever beat. I can see the line of customers at the meat counter and I can feel immediately and fully right at home if I let my mind settle back there.

I got off the school bus right there at the front. Every day without fail (at least the way my memory tells it) my Pop was standing in the window waiting with a smile. He’d opened that store in 1954, and saved a special seat for me and my glass-bottle Coke to take a break and have a snack in his office after school. Good grief, what I wouldn’t give to share a Coke with him now.

I spent afternoons straightening the stock on the shelves until I was old enough to carry a box cutter of my own in my back pocket. I learned to keep all the bills facing the same direction in the register if you wanted to count change quicker. I loved watching my daddy talk to his customers like they were his friends (because they were), and I loved it even more when the old ladies would ask, “Ain’t you Johnny’s baby? Good Lord girl, you done grown.” My response: beaming.

Today, the locks have changed, the characters have all moved on, and life for us all looks very very different than it did back then. But no matter how many years go by or how many turns we take, the fact is that I’m still Johnny’s Baby, we still belong to J.C., and to me, THIS will always be our place.

Somewhere along the way I thought I outgrew that little store, that little town, that little life. So often these days I feel like I’ve lost the little girl with the grocery store feet. Maybe I’ve been wearing high heels too long.

She’s still in there though. She’s the piece of me that knows how to make friendly small talk with a perfect stranger. She’s the one who knows that everybody (from the town drunk to the town mayor) buys toilet paper. She knows that hard work is made for more than money, and that when you add a little kindness and a few good folks to it, it doesn’t feel like work anyway. She knows what it means to build something and keep at it until it becomes a part of you. She’s also the piece that understands that it’s okay to turn the page. Just because a chapter ends, that doesn’t mean it can’t always be one of your favorite parts of the story.

Flip-flop feet don’t quite count, but close enough.

Though it might be another decade before I go back in, driving by that store these days makes me smile. I smile because I know there’s such beauty in turning the page.

Just last weekend I got to hang out for a while in another place that felt right at home, just two hours east of that old Disneyland. My daddy has the keys, my Pop’s picture is on the wall, and the two little girls I love the most in this world learned a little bit about straightening stock on the shelves. Eventually I pray they’ll get the time and the chance to learn the other lessons too, if they’re lucky, with grocery store feet and all.

Visit www.obxbutcherblock.com to learn more about our place.

I'm Allison
Family girl, creator, lover of the 80s. Recovering workaholic and reformed people-pleaser. Certain that life begins at 35 (or whenever we wake up and realize we are laugh-lines-deep in blessings).