Blessings and Backpacks.

The first day of kindergarten is a big deal in the United States, and at our new school especially. Most children go to preschool here, but usually it's only a half-day program a few days a week. When it's time for that five-year-old to finally go off to school all day, every day... as you can imagine, there is quite the emotional build-up. "My baby is going off to school" is the common sentiment. One which the likes of won't be seen again until that same baby goes off to college. Like I said, it's a big deal.

Since Miss B was already on her third year of kindergarten (maternelle) in Belgium, we just sort of rolled through all of the pomp and circumstance here. The Kinders didn't start on the same day as everyone else. On the second day, she went to an hour of orientation, which mostly seemed to be about the meeting for the parents. I think the school wanted to get us parents off to the right start. And even though I might have rolled my eyes, I really appreciated it because as a new family it sort of made me feel official, like we finally belonged here. After all, last year we just jumped into the middle of everything.

Miss B's first official day of school was the following day, the third day of school for everyone else. And when it finally came, we were saying "enough already, let's get this party started." To say we were ready is an understatement. (Miss B was more ready than anyone in our house for summer to be over and school to start.)

Finally, on that first day of school, the Kinders, most of them with proud happy faces, got into one of four lines. They waved at their parents and Miss B blew me kisses. All around me, other mothers struggled to hold back their tears. The three-year-old standing next to me cried loudly for her big sister, wanting to go too. "You have to wait your turn,"said her mother. "And I thought I would be the one crying today," she told me with a laugh.

The bell rang, and the big kids waited, patient. This was a special day. The first line of kindergartners started moving and everyone in the whole school started clapping. Like little rockstars, they marched through the door, waving to anyone who would wave back.

I wasn't expecting to be hit with emotion. Miss B had already been to school, everyone at our house was excited and grateful that she finally got to go to school as an American kid. But as Miss B's line began to move forward through the doors of our new school, I realized. I realized that she would never get to join Madame Christine's line of première primaire (first primary) kids marching into their first day of primary school at Saint-Joseph, like her brothers did before her. There would be no "blessing of the backpacks" this year. Miss B was never going to learn about the alpha letters, or go on a classe verte trip. And so many other things...

As I fought back the tears behind my sunglasses, I waved as my own kinder took her turn to proudly march through the door. Her empty Hello Kitty backpack bobbed up and down behind her...the tattered yellow "approved cabin baggage" ticket still attached.

Home Again. Home Again.

There were so many highlights from our summer. But one of the best has to be a special trip that AJ and I got to take at the end of June.

We got to go home. That's what it felt like when we got off the plane in Brussels. Familiar. Like we were home. 

AJ's fifth grade class in Belgium had an overnight bike trip the last week of school (the last week in June.) At the beginning of the year last year, AJ's teacher gave him the permission slip and AJ tried to give it back. He explained he wouldn't need it because he was moving. It started the wheels turning. I knew that school in Minnesota would be finished by the end of May. I talked to his teachers and they assured me that if he was able to make it back, he would certainly be allowed to go on the bike trip. 

In the middle of a frozen January, two of us were feeling especially homesick. It was a good time to purchase frequent flyer tickets for a trip in June. Having those tickets, and knowing we'd be able to go back to Belgium sooner than later, helped the two of us immensely.

We landed on a Sunday morning. Belgium was playing in a World Cup match that very night and we went with friends to a BBQ. (It was the closest I've ever seen the Belgians have anything close to a Super Bowl Party). In the twenty minutes before the match start time, we almost got in five different automobile accidents. Everyone was in a race to get to their destinations before game time.

I know jet lag was a factor, but within a few minutes of being at the party -- seeing old friends and catching up -- I was instantly reminded of something that had been easy to forget. I forgot how hard we had to work, every single day, just to understand a portion of what was going on around us. My French came back in a hurry (although not as good as AJ's did) and we had a great week.  

At the end of the week, with a full summer of fun ahead of us, we were ready to go home to Minnesota again. With the comfort of always knowing we can always go back home. 

The sound of silence.

Did you hear that?

My point exactly.

Nothing.

It is the blissful sound of silence. Three little people are back to school (ok, so two little people and one middle schooler). My youngest FINALLY got to start school as an American kid.

When the summer began, three long months stretched out before me. It made me nervous. How was I going to fill all of those days? (Summer vacation in Belgium is only 8 weeks.)

I will be the first one to tell you that our first American summer in six years was absolutely perfect. And while I was sad to see it come to an end, we were ready too. Those days flew by. I don't think I completed a single one of the projects I meant to do this summer, there just wasn't enough time. I didn't have any time to work on my new writing projects like I thought I would. I couldn't keep up with the blog entries I meant to post here.

But in one week the tide has turned. John started a new job. The kids are back at school. And I am getting myself back into balance. Part of that balance is catching up with a few entries here.