I (Sally) wanted to come up with something witty and clever about the first day of school this year... this year is the beginning of a new stage, where all three children are in school full time (wait, did I hear the Hallelujah Chorus in the background?) Seriously, though, I was caught by surprise by how emotional I got... taking Colin in to his kindergarten class last week, taking Caleb around to his 7 different classes in middle school. And I love giving the "are you KIDDING?" look to anyone who asks, "So, what are you going to do with yourself now?" Sheesh... today alone I am going to the gym, buying soccer shoes and socks for my children who begin soccer tomorrow, coming home to attack Mt. Laundry and the Hills of Dust, and I'm pretty sure Starbucks will be receiving a couple of dollars of income courtesy of me today... But I digress...
I decided that no one could put it in words better than Erma Bombeck herself... Here is her column entitled "When the Last Child Goes to school..."
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One of the foremost exponents of modern-day terrorism is the woman who asks, "What are you going to do with yourself when all your children are in school?"
They go on to paint a dismal picture of the lonely mother who plucks a pair of sticky socks off the ceiling and sobs uncontrollably into them, "My baby! My baby!" A woman who wanders through the house, unfulfilled and fighting bravely against the realization that she's being replaced by a two-dollar lunch plate and a woman she'd like to sue for alienation of affection. A disillusioned woman without purpose who must fill her time somehow until the big yellow bus deposits her brood at the curb so she can once again run and fetch!
For many a woman, this will be a rather accurate prediction. She's the woman who didn't have many interests going for her in the first place. When the children came along, it was the answer to her problem. Here was her crutch, her ace in the hole, her reason for not having to go outside the home, invent diversions, meet new friends, put up her hair, read a book, or function as a woman. She wore her children like a shirt and told everyone how they depended upon her - when it was the other way around.
To most woman, however, the school bell will sound as glorious as VE Day. It's over. She's done it. She is back to some semblance of a schedule, some precious time to herself. She wanted children too, but for another reason. They fulfilled a strong desire to love, raise and leave as a legacy another human being. But they didn't fulfill her ambitions, her struggle for individuality or her need to make a contribution to this life, no matter how small.
I have seen women emerge like great beautiful butterflies from a cocoon existence that was limited to naps and peanut butter. I have seen them assume leadership, develop and grow into active citizens, unearth artful talents that surprised everyone - even themselves, revert to skills they had BB (Before Babies), and set about restoring their own personal appearance.
I have also seen them sink into despondency, scrub the kitchen twice a week to pass the time and mechanically mouth the same old routine, "I can't...(name anything), I've got the children."
From a woman who has lived through the "last one to school" bit, may I give you a piece of advice. Allow yourself the luxury of that one last look as he waves goodbye from the bus. Pour yourself a cup of coffee and have a good cry for at least five minutes. Then, if you haven't suffered enough, walk slowly through the house and let the quiet pound at your eardrums. If you like, enjoy a round of guilt complex. ("Why was I so rotten to him all summer?")
Now, straighten your shoulders, take a deep breath, and look out of your window. There's a big world out there. You earned it! Now, enjoy it!
- Erma Bombeck, September 1966
