Back to School, Eternally

September has always been so fraught for me with nervous energy and promise. Before I even started school myself, the atmosphere changed in our house as August waned because my mother's school year was starting. And because I went back to graduate school in between my own college graduation and the birth and eventual first day of school of my oldest daughter, there have been few consecutive years when there wasn't that amped up feeling, that shifting of molecules that has nothing whatsoever to do with the cooler air and lack of humidity.

September is change, it is newness, it is hiking yourself to your feet after a languorous rest, no matter how you spent your summer months. Suddenly, everything is faster, brighter, more urgent; because I am me, inexorably me, there is an inevitable edge to my excitement. And now, there is Annika's birthday--the annual reminder of this insane, wonderful decision that I made to do this all over again in spite of my conflicted feelings the first time around--and--in honor of the swirling, edgy, elation that is my relationship to this decision, there is Annika's birthday party.

This year, I decided to do a harvest dinner on the roof for just family--Ben's family, my family, us. We brought in all of the vegetables and fruits from the garden: zucchini and patty pan squash, beans, cucumbers, eggplant, onions, shallots, cantaloupe, and armfuls of tomatoes in a dozen hues, from the tiniest currant variety to Brandywines nearly as big as Annika's head. And herbs: basil, thyme, parsley, chives, cilantro, and tarragon. And with the exception of an exceptional fillet of beef provided by my sister (for which I concocted an herb and shallot mayonnaise using the herbs and shallots I had grown), and some shrimp because, well, it always seems like a good idea to have some shrimp, each dish featured ingredients we had grown ourselves.

Is my self-congratulatory tone coming through? I felt proud, I will confess, and please, no need to egg me on here with words of praise; I'm doing it myself, cutting you off at the pass. Not just for the garden-centered meal, which represented a full day's hard work, and yes, a summer's investment of time and love, but for this year--for surviving this year--perhaps the hardest of my life, in so many ways. This year, among so many other things that have happened, I became a mother of two, and it has been the hardest, most excruciating transition. I know here I am supposed to add that it has also been the best thing I ever did, because people always say that after they say how hard parenting is, but the truth is, although Lily and Annika seem to me to be exemplary children, whether or not raising them is the best or most rewarding thing I ever do remains to be seen.

I realize how much I am my mother's daughter when I feel compelled to add: I kind of hope not. Or rather, I hope it is only one of many best and rewarding accomplishments that require all kinds of investments on my part over the mad, erratic, unpredictable course of a lifetime. I'd like to think I'm raising them to want for me nothing less. And as the year--the way I always view it (no New Year's Eve resolutions for me)--rolls to an end and just as quickly takes off like a race car--I would like to add that I desire nothing less for them.