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Tonight was “Take Mama To School Night”.  And by that I mean I was taught a lesson or two.

Critter and Varmint’s friends, Richard and Megan, joined us for our weekly dinner at Grandma Jane’s Orchard.  Tonight Grandma’s boyfriend, Mike Buchanan, joined us on the big screened porch for dinner and hilarity.

Dinner is not always served with hilarity.  But when Mike is over, you can usually expect it to be a side dish, if not the main entrée.  Mike is a retired newscaster, and believe me, he KNOWS how to work his audience.  The kids didn’t know what hit them.

So tonight we were not to be disappointed.  Mike had come with brain-teaser puzzles in hand, and intent to charm.  Both were a complete success.

The evening was spent with all four children completely engaged in the conversation, and respect and love mingled with joy and laughter.

Me, I never expected all of this. In fact, nearly all of my expectations for the evening missed their mark.

I figured the Tuna Noodle Casserole would be pushed away.

Wrong.  Gobbled up.

I figured the kids would want to skidaddle away from the table and not stay to talk to the grandparental units.

Wrong.  They gobbled that up, too.

I figured Mike would grow bored or tired of the 9-year-old and 11-year-old company.

Wrong again.  He enjoyed himself hugely.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say everyone was fed well by the end of that meal.  The kids, with quality time with their elders,

Grandma Jane for seeing her loved ones so happy,

Mike, for seeing his lady-love so content,

and me….

…..for getting out of doing the dishes!

I watched them carefully.  I knew they were fearful.  I knew they were full of tension and stress.

They were to leave the house a full hour and a half apart from each other for the first time since they started conventional school.  There was a lot of change happening today.

I knew what my job was.

I’ve spent the last few weeks encouraging, teaching optimism, and offering perspective.

But, as with anything in life, they had to face this change on their own.

We waited for Varmint’s bus, and took her yearly “Back to School” picture that would be uploaded onto Facebook for friends and family later.  But My Captain and I noticed her smile did not reach her eyes.

So I quietly sat down with her on the old, damp bench and listened to the early morning sounds surrounding us.

“Be the light,” just popped out of my mouth.

“Huh?” she turned to me.

“Be the light.  Be the smile that comforts everyone else at school today.  Don’t focus on your own feelings; help the other kids who are anxious.  You’ll know them because their eyes won’t match their smile.”

She pondered that as we sat in the morning stillness.

Then the bus came and as she got on, she turned to me with a smile that reached her eyes.

An hour and a half later, it was Critter’s turn.  Same thing: Picture, smile that didn’t match his eyes.

“Have a seat.” I told him, and marched him over to the old, damp bench.

I started the “Be the light” lecture, but he just crumbled into me.

No lecture was going to help this little boy right now.  He’s wasn’t as anxious as he was depressed.  Social dynamics are difficult for him at school, and some days it can be long and torturous.  And he felt trapped…he knew there was no way out.

All I could do was hold him, as I held back my own maternal tears.  I ached for him.

“I love you,” popped out of my mouth.

“I love you, too, Mom,” he whispered, a hitch in his breath.

The bus came. He got up, squared his small, thin shoulders, and bravely got on, without looking back.

Do I think they’ll be fine?  Yes.

It’s the waiting that is the hardest part.  Sometimes change and challenge are coming, and we know we are helpless to prevent it.  We know it’s not on our terms; there is no choice but to meet it.  And let me tell you something….

that is when an old, damp bench comes in handy.

We had a bonfire at Grandma Jane’s Orchard last night.

She has the most wonderful Grandfather Hickory tree near the bonfire Ring, and on one of its ancient limbs hangs a well-worn, wooden swing.  The kind of swing you’d hoist your barefoot, sweaty-self up on after gulping down an ice-cold glass of Mom’s lemonade (with extra sugar on the bottom of the cup).

The kind of swing you’d jump off of time, and time again, because you knew, you just knew that if you kept trying, eventually you would fly just like Superman.

Varmint and Critter jumped on it together while waiting for the bonfire to be lit.

It’s not really big enough for both.

But it was fun trying.

And even though on any other given day they wouldn’t want to touch eachother; even though it was muggy and the mosquitos were out; even though they probably got some splinters on their cute rumps,

they enjoyed every bloomin’ minute of it.

Which makes me happy.  Which is a good thing, because ‘if Mama ain’t happy, ain’t Nobody happy’.

The sound of crickets filled the moist morning air.

Darkness gave way to an early morning light as I rolled out of bed.

My Varmint’s middle school orientation began today, and I intended to meet the bus, even though it stops by our house at the butt-crack of dawn.   The calm of daybreak filled the house, the gentle wakening of everyone began.

And then….

All Hell Broke Loose:

Wakey, wakey!

Augh!  (Smack!) Leave me alone!

Time to get up!  Come on, I’ll help you!

Don’t even.  I’ll smack you into next Tuesday, Bub.

Would you get up if I cleaned behind your ear after I lick my genitals?

***Sigh***

It’s gonna be a weird day.

While out on our property in Columbia Falls, Montana, Critter and My Captain came across this:

They were very excited and proud of their find…so much so that they were blinded to Varmint’s and my revulsion.  They not only brought it back to our campsite, they went to UPS, and spent $40.00 to carefully send that nasty thing home!

A week or so later, the good-natured, well-built, always-got-a-smile-on-his-face-not-that-I-would-notice UPS man delivered a big package to my door.  I’d forgotten about the buck skull and, silly me, was anticipating something fun like a purchase from Plow and Hearth or Lilian Vernon or maybe even The Oriental Trading Company!

And then I opened it, and my revulsion was renewed.

That is how I came to be holding this in my hand, leaning on the kitchen counter, wondering what wrong turn I’d taken on my road of life.

EW.

Critter has a passion and excitement for this thing….something about the wilderness, and mountain men, and testosterone-fueled ideas like that.  He wants to mount this thing on his bedroom wall!

WHY?

“Well, for one thing, Mom, it will keep my sister out of my room.”

Couldn’t you just lock the door?

“And besides, just look at it!  The question is, ‘Why wouldn’t I want to mount it on my bedroom wall?'”

Ah.  Ok then.  How can I argue with such irrefutable logic?

I heaved a heavy sigh and made friends with several containers of these in the basement,

and proceeded to soak the living daylights out of this poor creature’s remains.

Maybe if I soak it completely for hours and hours on end, it will go away entirely….

Er.  Nope.  Now it’s not only repulsive, it’s wet and slimy, too.

And NEWS FLASH…after all of this:  after the men rejoiced in finding it, after they took great pains to ship it home carefully, after I soaked it in literally gallons of bleach and peroxide…

I discovered via google that one should NEVER soak bones in bleach because it breaks down the structure, rendering it to bone dust in short order.

Maybe that’s not a bad thing?  Maybe providence was stepping in here in my carcass-curing ignorance?  Maybe I’ll be spared the agony of looking at it when I’m in Critter’s room.

So what of the skull?  What happened?

My Captain wants me to paint it with glue and water to help preserve it, and then he’ll mount it on Critter’s wall.

Oy.

Pray for me.