Double Edge Sword

Sometimes, do you ever wonder if maybe you're just a little nuts? I found myself wondering this again yesterday when it was my last day of daycare in my home for the summer.

Up to this point, I was eagerly waiting for this day, fantacizing about the idea of spending time with my friends and husband without interruption of a butt needing wiping or something.

I would say to myself "Soon, my dear, a bit of privacy will enter your life...hang on!".

I dreamed of going to the grocery store unattended and unstressed, making leisurely choices, instead of herding anywhere between three to six 6 year olds through the isles, grabbing only necessary items that require no lengthy decision making.

The last day came, and instead of feeling elated, I was intensely forlorn. I love these children, and found personal value in the fact that they needed me. They brought me a hand made card that read "Thank you for helping us bloom", along with a gazing ball for my garden to replace the one that was shattered in a bad hailstorm recently. Yes, I had several minutes of sniffing tear snot until I was able to regain composure.

When their mother came to pick them up, I had to go through the house and gather things that they had brought from home to play with at my house. I grabbed their swimsuits, toys, extra clothes and craft supplies(all stuff that I had complained about picking up), and felt a de ja vue of 'cleaning out my desk' at the end of a 'real' job.

Their mother reached over and hugged me tightly and expressed her gratefulness for how her children were cared for over the summer, and for the experiences we provided for them. It was a better compliment than any 'boss' has offered to me in the past, and was truly sincere.

No one will be coming today. The summer is over. I am not happy.

I should be, I've been complaining for weeks now about how emotionally fatigued I am. These children wore me out with their questions and need for one on one contact.

One girl has a voice that resembles a clarinet with a split reed. However, she was the one who never missed a day of helping with barn chores, singing all the way through. Halfway through the summer, she knew exactly how to take care of everthing in the barn, and how to do it, and being happy to do it. Now I will walk to the barn alone, with a bit less enthusiasm for my hobby. I will gather my eggs, knowing that none of them will be broken before they reach the house, but I won't feel happy about it.

There are so many other examples of how we enriched each others' lives, but yet we took it all for granted that it was 'just another day'.

How can we miss something that drove us nuts? How long will it take to get used to my 'Fall -Winter' schedule, while GirlKid and everyone else is in First Grade? I guess I'll have plenty of time to can those damn tomatoes, after all.