Bus Stop Memories

I was at the bus stop this afternoon, standing in a light drizzle, thinking about how this could be my last year waiting at a bus stop. (Kindergartners are required to have an adult get them off the bus.) I started remembering things and wanted to blog.

I remember when I was waiting with a baby Gwyn for Kevin to get off the bus one October afternoon. Colin didn't want to come out to the bus stop with me. A minute before the bus arrived, I see a little Hulk walking towards me. He had put on his Halloween costume. It was so much fun. He was smiling, I was laughing. And he was still so little.

I remember waiting with Gwyneth for the boys to get off the bus in the winter. I would grab the thickest blanket in my house (usually the quilt made by Aunt Kelly for our wedding) wrap it around us, and try to sing to her to distract her from the cold. Sometimes I also had to hold an umbrella, but I almost always had her in my arms when it was cold. When it was warm, she ran around in our neighbors yard.

I remember all the kids walking up from the corner to our house, crunching the leaves along the side of the street as we walk. (One of my favorite things about fall.)

I remember when the boys were given a key, and left to get into the house by themselves after school. I got a phone call from a neighbor saying they were locked out. I asked Kevin about the key I had just attached to his backpack. He told me he forgot about it. So Colin was given the key, and has gotten the boys into the house after school every time since. (That did not play out the way I expected it to.)

I remember how the boys explained to Gwyn over and over how the bus works, and that she will have to sit in the front with other Kindergartners. But she shouldn't worry, because they will be in the back of the bus. They also told her they would put her on the bus, and they would make sure she got off the bus at the correct stop. And then on the first day of school, both boys walked over to Gwyn when the bus arrived, and Kevin had his arm around her to get her on the bus.

But now I remember Gwyn bouncing off the bus, every single day, yelling "Mommy!" and jumping into my arms. (I have to be ready. That girl jumps and lifts her feet up every time without checking to see if someone is catching her.) The boys say hello and then all three start to talk to me as we stop on leaves and walk to the house.

(I won't mention the minor chaos that homework time is. Two kids doing spelling lists. All three bringing folders and work and permission slips home. All three talking at one time. Someone has someone else spelling notebook. Someone didn't turn forms into their teacher (cough cough Colin). It is not awful but it is stressful.)