My husband and I have our own business and we work out of our home. This lets us enjoy flexible schedules which we cherish and take advantage of to the fullest, such as both us participating in our son’s daily activities. One of the things we like most is dropping Aiven off at school together. Since we spend so much time at home we jump at the chance to get out of the house. If we have errands to run or business to take care of it also just makes sense to drop him off and then go about our day. But most importantly, walking Aiven to class is one of the sweetest moments of the day. He proudly carries his lunch bag to the double doors leading to the hallway and impatiently yells, “Doors open, doors open!” until they unlock. Then he holds one hand out for me and the other to his daddy and the three of us walk hand in hand the length of the hall to his classroom.
I never thought much of it although I did casually say to my husband the other morning, “I wonder if anyone thinks we’re weird.” Well, my question was answered shortly thereafter when one mother said to another about 10 feet away from us and a little too loudly, “Why do they have to drop their son off together?”
Indeed, we are the only parents who drop their child(ren) off together. We’re different. There was a time in my life when I would have been flustered by someone talking about me and judging me for being different. I tried so hard for most of my life to fit in because I wanted to feel like I belonged. When I became a mommy, I felt that I had joined an exclusive club where people nurtured and educated each other to become better parents. Over time, I’ve become more cynical, or at least more circumspect. I’ve encountered some superbly supportive mothers out there who open their hearts and homes to my family, but I’ve also met more than a few snarks and gossip-mongers (luckily, the former far outweigh the latter). So I’ve had to learn to laugh it off as best I can. Of course, some things are easier to laugh off than others. I fret about whether other parents will comment on the contents of my child’s packed lunch, the warmth of his clothes, or the gifts we bring to birthday parties. But I don’t give a crap what people say about his rock star hairstyle, rambunctiousness, or personal iPod. Take it or leave it cause that’s not changing based on anyone’s opinion but our own. And guess what, as long as we work from home we will continue to drop him off at school together. Because we can.