Why I joined the PTA (and other mysteries)…
Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
My daughter is in her last week of kindergarten. I can’t stress how quickly this has all passed me by. Truly lightning speed. She’s growing out her bangs and wants to walk into the school with her BFF (hint: not me).
How did this happen? It seems like seconds ago I was frantically searching for five minutes to have a shower. When “Mommy’s special alone time” consisted of a trip to the dentist to have my wisdom teeth removed.
She still thinks I’m the coolest. Please, God I still have a few more years of that. She still wants me when she’s bonked her head or had a bad dream. But there’s no mistaking it. She’s growing up at a faster rate than I can comprehend.
I don’t want to miss it.
I’ve been working hard all her life to ensure we’re not homeless (a mild exaggeration. Surely her grandparents would have taken pity on us). It’s been a worthy and necessary pursuit. But as she ages (rapidly) I feel like I’ve been missing the mark.
Surely I’m the only mother who’s ever felt this way (!!!)
And so, when my friend S asked me to join the Parent Advisory Council at my daughter’s school next Fall, naturally I said, “Not on your life, sister.”
After which she asked me again and I said, “Ok”. (she’s a tough negotiator, that S)
Let me break it down a little bit. I have two jobs, a cat, a dog, a new fiance and the aforementioned super child. I have friends and family who occasionally like to see me. I volunteer more than I should for causes I can’t say no to. I bring work home and work overtime.
I seriously DO NOT have time for PTA.
And yet…and yet she’s growing up so fast. So fast. And this mama is trying to keep up.
So you’re lookin’ at the brand new secretary for the Amy Woodland Parent Advisory Council. I have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m going to be involved in the goings on at my kid’s school because she’s so important to me.
Five minutes from now, when she’s all grown up and moved on to much cooler people, I really hope she’ll say, “My mom really gave a sh*t about me. She didn’t just keep me from dumpster diving for my meals. She didn’t just work two jobs to buy my tutus. She cared enough to join the PAC against all her better judgement.”
At least…that’s what I’m hoping for.
Anyone else feeling nostalgic about the end of school?
Anyone else feel the stark reality of time’s passage?
Teach your children well,