the gift of moments

Ecto Cooler and Cheez-Its and Other Back to School Musings

“Okay, kids, say cheese!”  My brothers and I stood shoulder to shoulder by our driveway for a picture, the flash of the clunky family camera glinting in my memory as we smiled for a photograph…that absolutely no one saw for weeks or months until that roll of film was taken to be developed.  My backpack, the same one I’d had several years in a row, contained my lunch in a brown paper bag which had no ice pack to keep my Ecto Cooler juice box cold, an old school ziplock-gripper-less baggie holding a bologna and mayo sandwich (“my bologna has a first name…it’s O-s-c-a-r…”). I don’t remember any fruit but my mom fed us thoughtfully so maybe there was some fruit. Tastykakes. I remember those.  Catholic school kids, we had uniforms year after year, letting our creativity shine only through our footwear, which was a within-reason-responsible-appearing brown tie shoe. Look out, world. Our biggest fret was making sure the hemline of my hand-me-down jumper was long enough so that only a millimeter of knee skin was visible between the tip of my knee socks and the end of the plaid. I’m sure the mountain of paperwork was similar, from the shared kitchen piles in my mind from my mom’s countertops in the 1980’s and those now on my own. Scholastic book forms. Those are still around. We all played lots of sports so I recall being busy, but not so busy that we didn’t play outside often. Or have friends over. 
It’s funny because all of my back to school moments from the time I was six through college took place two driveways down from where my own children are now lining up for their own back to school photos. Save nine years after college when I hopped around the world for various stints of time for various adventures and reasons (six weeks in Australia after graduation, a year to volunteer in San Diego, two years of grad school in Boston, married city living in Philly when we were buck wild DINKs [Dual Income No Kids] for three years, and then three years in San Francisco)…now my hubby and kiddos are back on my block, in a plot twist not even I saw coming. 
But here we are, again, doing very similar things that were done in my life in the ’80s, year after year, but boy how different it is. Now kids line up for first day photos with signs and chalkboards holding dates and names and quotes and hopes and dreams documented and instantaneously shared virally across the inter webs, which then get digitally entered into our own personal family photo books aplenty, lest we forget even a second. Public school wardrobe invites many a discussion (mainly for the first day attire) so that said documentation looks up to snuff.  Beautiful autumnal porch scenes (unfortunately not mine this year…will work on that for 2018) exploding with stunning arrangements of mums and hay and fall wreaths.  Thermonuclear tested Pottery Barn lunch boxes with long-lasting ice packs to keep my kids’ organic deli meat sandwiches regulation temperature so I can be assured nary an ounce of rot may grow in the few hours between breakfast and lunch. And we take great care now to ensure no allergens are lurking in said lunch boxes. Paper paper paper werk. Signing papers, signing checks (can’t we just Venmo the PTA yet?). Masterminding carpools and sports schedules feels like I’m coordinating some wildly intricate ballet where a million kids are being tossed and spun and thrown into a hundred different places a hundred different days of a hundred different weeks and I’m the conductor in the orchestra pit below with my white baton and tuxedo and manic gloved hands and I’m flitting and zinging in a furious flight of fancy coordinating these activities that I manually registered them for and my minivan needs to drive them to. And this year may I not forget to take the kids in for their annual physical *near* their actual birthdays again…it’s a real pain in the neck to call the insurance company to sort out your oversight leading to the overdue checkup. More work. Ah. I just must forget less things. Alexa. Remind me to forget less things. Thank you. Actually. I don’t yet have Alexa. Kate. Remind me to buy Alexa. 
The first week of all kids in school plus all kids in activities again has come and gone. It started with a painfully slow Polly-O string cheese-esque pull of a tiny crying human clinging to my leg and away into preschool…and it ended with a colorful bang when my two year old dropped trow in an unused soccer goal to pee during the last few minutes of her big sister’s soccer game, even though I told her to “just wait one more minute, honey, because there aren’t porta-potties at this field and don’t worry, this game in the 86 degree heat during your nap time is alllllmost finished I promise and please [mid-run arm-grab] get off the field, sweetie, and hey, no, stop pulling out the white grass…and the blue grass…the players need that to see where the end of the field is, ugh put that down, lovey, yuck, chemicals, [aside: Boys! Stop! Just give it back to him, he had it first!] Wait, where’d she go?  OH NO!! Oh, God. Okay. Let me take her behind this bush quick….” Heaven. Help me.  
After the game, the team got Cheez-Its for snack. Those delectable processed crunchy faux cheese square relics from the ’80s have survived the times…amazingly, along with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles…and I’d like to think that we will too. Many things may have changed over the decades:  slouch socks and Scrunchie flair have hopefully gone to pasture and Trapper Keeper organization is now conveniently located within the phones in our pockets.  Loving our kids and trying to do the best we can with what we have, red food dye #40 be damned, still reigns supreme.  We keep putting one foot in front of the other, while the pages of our calendar keep floating away into the past, just like they did in the Lady and the Tramp movie.  Our first big week is down, guys.  Good job, all!  Sending serenity now to anyone else out there who is feelin’ the flow ??.    And in the immortal words of our dear New Kids on the Block, keep Hangin’ Tough.   

 

 

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