I love and hate this photo all at the same time. I love it because it encompasses everything there is about (my thoughts) on school, mostly romantic notions (if school can be thought of that way). At the same time, I feel like it takes something away from me.
If you click on this photo it should show it in full screen. You'll see how happy the children are, truly truly happy. They come home like this EVERYDAY! I feel truly truly happy (for the most part).
I meet them everyday at the end of our drive, I wave to the driver to let her know "I'll take it from here, thanks!", and take their hands and they vie to tell me about their day.
I love this photo because it shows how happy they are to be home, happy that they've had a good day, happy about life. I hate this photo because it symbolizes time lost, time gone by, growing up, memories missed.
I hate that they ride the school bus for just a couple of reasons. It's a tug of war with my heart. Maybe it's silly.
First of all, it's good that they are going to school. We did not nonchalantly decide to put them in school. There are a few reading this blog who are home schoolers and you'll know we did not come to the decision to send them to school lightly. Not that I value (or don't value) your opinion, but these are our kids and this IS the best decision for them (right now). But I'll discuss that some other time.
Throughout preschool and Kindergarten we took Rachel to school and picked her up. While it was a pain in the rear at times to often drop what we were doing (often times delivering a goat or working in the yard) to go get her (I know that sounds kinda bad but it is what it is), it was a time when we got to see her come out of class, talk to the teacher, and experience school in that respect.
I kind of miss that now. I miss the interaction we may have with their teachers. Knowing daily if there was a problem I could find out right then and there if one of the children had a bad day right from the horses mouth. Now, we don't have that interaction. I send them off with a driver, they are dropped off by a driver and shuffled around by people all day long. Entrusting the lives of our most precious children to others is extremely difficult, let me tell you.
We don't have to send them, I REALIZE this. But it's good...for everyone.
Anyway, there it is..
Every morning at 6:45 our alarm goes off. I get up, I normally wake Rachel up, Jeremiah gets up. I walk into the kitchen to make lunches, Jeremiah dresses and comes into the kitchen to make breakfast for he and Rachel.
While Rachel eats, I finish their lunch, pack it into their lunch bags and put Rachel's in her backpack. I do her hair, help with shoes if need be and we see Daddy off to work at about 7:20. There's been just one day where we've actually been standing outside waiting for the school bus but all the rest of the days we hear the "beep...beep...beep" as the bus backs up into our driveway and Rachel races out the door, me following behind trying to get shoes on, as she races across the yard and waits for the bus to completely back up and stop before she waves goodbye, throwing kisses and boarding the bus with a smile and saying good morning to the driver. I wait until she's pulled out of the drive and walk back into the house.
Rachel is the last pick up on our road and so the driver backs up into our driveway, which is nice!
Early morning routine complete.
Andrew wakes up, we feed the goats and his school bus shows up at 11:30 on the dot. He's the first to get on. I wave goodbye and then it's back to work. The driver for Drew's bus, Mrs. R., comes from the east and since their school is west of us, she just pulls over, picks him up and continues straight. Our driveway has a pretty big shoulder so it's safe.
In the afternoon they ride the same bus home that Rachel rides in the morning with the same driver, Mrs. B. (the preacher's wife for a local church). If Drew didn't have siblings at the school, he'd ride the little preschool bus home and I suppose he still could but this is easier.
Anyhoo, so that's school life here.
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