It’s the last … (And other lessons the first child taught me)

by Susan Anderson
Tuesday, April 1, 2008 2:26 PM MDT

“It’s the last school conference at grade school,” I thought sadly as I sat at the small table, my knees scrunched up by my chest.

Who would think that you would miss this kind of experience?

There are the thrilling moments of grade school, such as watching your child dash happily into school, while you sit in the car sighing about that display of independence.

The good: Isn’t it fabulous that she likes school that much? Think of the kids who don’t like school or even get to go to it.

The bad: Wait a minute. Doesn’t she need me there too?

And there are the trying moments.

They are very different, depending on whether your child is a boy or a girl. For a boy, there are bloody noses and smelly shoes. There may also be spelling issues.

For a girl, it’s who sat next to whom at lunch, as well as the same spelling issues.

For a boy, buying clothes will cost nothing next to the price of a snowboard. In fact, the favorite T-shirt only gets better with age, if you are 9 years old and male.

The clothes that a girl desires could pay for a couple of bikes and skateboards, and they may not be appealing in two weeks.

The bad: I can’t stand another morning of tears when I try to get a comb through her hair (second grade).

The good: She takes complete responsibility for all hair matters, from choosing between sweet honeysuckle and precious pear cream rinse to arranging for a haircut (sixth grade).

The bad: But she may prefer your rinse that cost a fortune because it’s specially formulated for “older” dry, stringy hair.

The good: At least she still talks to you about hair conditioner and friends.

I think it’s worse with the last child, because from the first child I know how speeded up the coming years will be.

It makes you even more sentimental about the passing years when you know that there won’t be another child to go through them, and you hear from the oldest once a week, not once an hour.

Learning to be sentimental has its positive side, because you already know that, as my husband is fond of saying, “She won’t be doing that in high school.” You realize how many crises will be obsolete in a year.

The handwriting might become legible.

The braces will come off some day.

The socks will certainly start matching, without your assistance.

And a sick teenager doesn’t require that you use a sick day of your own to hover and take temperatures every hour. A blanket, some soup and a call every hour will do just fine, thank you very much.

Just like in childbirth, as soon as grade school is over, you’ll forget all the bad and only think about the good, which seems even better in the rearview mirror.

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