Labor day (the 100th post)

Labor Day, I tried to explain to my inquisitive eight year-old, is the last day of summer, for all intents and purposes. "What does that mean?" He, predictably, asked. Unable to come up with a simpler answer that would satisfy his insatiable mind, I launched into a long-winded, poor description of the seasons, the equinoxes, and the solstices. So you see, although clearly, he did not, the school year begins while it's still technically summer.

This Labor Day marks a bittersweet ending to probably the most wonderful summer in my son's life, so far. For all of us, it marks the beginning of a new chapter. All three kids will be in school full-time. My son starts third grade, my diva starts kindergarten, and the baby goes to full-time daycare. And I am gingerly dipping my toe back into the working world. My husband will be entering the second year of law school.

The summer ended with a flurry activity. Soon after we returned to Chicago, we set about shopping for my son's fourth, and final, birthday party of this summer's birthday season. We dyed the packages of men's t-shirts for the robes, and ruined my landlady's washing machine in the process. We ordered the cake, bought the snacks, and headed to Home Depot for the wooden dowels to make wands.

I convinced an annoyed man-in-an-orange-apron to cut the long dowels into quarters. He protested, explaining that he'd be responsible if he ruined them. They're wands for a birthday party, you can't ruin them. I'd rather some be a little too short and others a little too long, than losing a finger trying to cut them myself! I explained with a smile. He grudgingly obliged. Soon, we had a bag full of wands in need of sanding. As we prepared to leave Home Depot, a large Jewish man with a long beard walked in.

"Don't take your kids out there." He cautioned. "A storm is coming any minute, but it will pass in ten minutes." We looked at him curiously. Storm? What storm? It was beautiful and sunny when we came in ten minutes ago! We walked towards the exit and stood in amazement as clouds quickly gathered in front of us. In seconds, thunder was booming, rain was lashing down, and the wind was thrashing the trees back and forth at the end of the parking lot. The men-in-orange-aprons brought squeegees out and giant fans, trying to fight back the water sloshing into the doorways. I gently pushed the children back into the store as the water drew closer and closer. We stood with a dozen shoppers at the entryway with our mouths gaping. "Someone really pissed off the Lord today!" a loud-voiced woman exclaimed. She repeated herself, when no one responded. We were too dumbstruck.

And just like that, ten minutes later, the turbulent downpour melted into a gentle drizzle. I looked around to thank the mysterious man with the beard, but he was gone.

The next day, my Mother-in-law came, hooded cape in hand, to play the part of Professor Sprout. Together, we picked up some pots of exotic-looking succulents, potting soil, and small pots.

The night before the party, I hastily painted the party hats black, and prepared my signs for Ollivanders Wands, Madame Malkin's Robes, and Gringotts Bank. I typed up a potions recipe, and labelled all of the bottles with sinister sounding names: Bile of Hippogriff liver, Dragon Blood, Essence of Unicorn Blood, etc.

The morning of the party, we loaded up the van, and made several trips to the party site. We set up our Diagon Alley in the basement hallway, hanging robes on the cubby hooks and black party hats in the cubbies. I set up a table with wands (each individually labeled with the type of wood, the type of core, and the length) and glitter and glue for decoration.

We set up the potions class in the basement classroom, and divinations upstairs, while my Mother-in-law set up her Herbology class outside. As we finished setting up, the kids began to trickle in. Chaos ensued.

The party is all a blur to me now. Kids came in, got their robes and their wands, and their chanuka gelt wizarding money. They were all too busy casting "spells" at one another to bother with decorating their wands. One of the prefects I had asked to come didn't show, so we quietly removed the Hufflepuffs from the sorting hat and reshuffled the schedules. The divinations class ran too fast and potions too slow, and in quidditch game was a mad free-for-all. I threw out the golden tennis ball to end the game, and we headed indoors for birthday cake.

All I can say is thank goodness calmer heads than my own prevailed. My Skokie Sistahs and my Mother-in-law were so supremely fantastic as the potions, divination, and herbology professors, and they were equally adept at making sure everyone got their cake, ice cream and anything else needed.

My prefects were equally wonderful, keeping order, and getting the kids to the right place.

I can't say anything worked out exactly as planned. My son decided to be a Ravenclaw when his best friend was sorted into the house of wisdom and wit.

The sweetest kids got sorted into Slytherin,

and the "livelier" bunch into Gryffindor,

and the "bully" who had cast a shadow over my son's first year of school was a last minute attendee. My son didn't even catch the snitch.

But he got his wish and more: a birthday he will always remember, and a surprising new friend.

The robes and wands have finally been put away. After the magic and mayhem of the last week, the excitment of the birthday party has finally died down. As if to formalize the transition into the school year, Grandma Tootin' instituted a new tradition of taking the kids out to buy new school supplies and new outfits, and taking them to lunch. The kids are finally ready for to go back to school...

...even though technically it's still summer.