A lamentation on the end of summer...

My boys and some friends saying farewell to summer.
(well, they're waiting for the ferry, but it looks like "farewell")

"Summer" doesn't officially end until September 22nd - the Autumnal Equinox - a time when the hours of day are supposed to equal the hours of night.  Despite what the calendar tells us, most people feel that Labor Day weekend is the end of summer.  Stay-at-home/work-at-home parents are rejoicing because they'll finally get a little peace and quiet to get their projects (work and home) completed.  Children are antsy - looking forward to seeing their friends again on a regular basis, but not looking forward to using their brains in an academic way ("Ugh, I have to get up early?"  "There's homework?!?")  Teachers are whining "Where did my summer go?!?"  (I know, I know...you just want to tell those whiners "STFU!" - it even gets on my nerves - and I'm a teacher!)  Parents of college-bound children can't believe those 18 years have flown by.
We can't stop the march of time.  It moves on whether we like it or not.  I try and be a grownup about it and accept it every September.  It's time to be grateful that I have a job that allows for a 104-day (not really, Phineas and Ferb.  Not even close.) break to rejuvenate. Somehow, the end of summer feels different for me this year.  I know I'm on the verge of some dramatic changes.  Obviously the topsy turvy schedule we'll be keeping around here is going to be dramatic.  But I also have a 5 year old who is entering Kindergarten (and "organized" town sports, too), and I'm surprised at how emotional it is this time around.  It's dawning on me that it's the end of the preschool era in our house.  That's dramatic!
He is the younger of my two children, and once he walks through those Kindergarten doors, I won't have a "little kid" anymore.  I mean, physically, he's little, but people will start to see me as one of those mothers "with older children".  He is going to join his brother in the "land of primary school-induced independence"! Even more-so than in nursery school, he is going to learn how to be his own person and make his own decisions.  Soon, he'll not want to hold my hand anymore or give me a hug and kiss goodbye.  I'm starting to understand why people have 3 and 4 kids (but not 5.  That's crazy, no matter how you cut it!  Both my grandmothers had 5 kids...and we've got some crazies.) You want to prolong those feelings.  Sure, it's a pain the neck to change diapers, juggle baby gear, and wipe faces (I can't say tushies, because my 5 year old is still asking to have his tush wiped...some of you with husbands might even comment that they never stop acting like they need their tush wiped!), but that sweet feeling of having a little person who wants you and actually acknowledges that he needs you is so warming.  It also ironically makes you seem "younger".  A mom who feels frazzled with kids pulling at the proverbial apron strings can rest assured that she projects a younger vibe than the "polished" mom who has a few extra minutes to actually accessorize with a bracelet or run some product through her hair because her kids can brush their own teeth, no matter what age that driver's license reports.
So, what am I actually lamenting this year?   Is it the end of the relaxed days with no deadlines?  Is it the dread of cooler, snowier days ahead?  Now that I've typed this, it's starting to dawn on me exactly how vain I actually am...
Oh, and how is yoga going to help with this?  Well, keeping active with gentle yoga stretches that bathe and lubricate the joints with sinovial fluid will keep me feeling sprightly, and at the very least, enable me to continue to wipe my own tush, well into my old, old age!

Namaste.