Remember how I said yesterday that my emotions were all swirly? On a completely unrelated note: why doesn’t candyland put its colors in order according to the Roy G Biv spectrum? Could ONE thing about that game be useful?
The first day of kindergarten– are you ready?
I struggle hard with the waking up thing, probably directly related to my struggle with the going-to-bed-thing. So no one in this house really expected me to be awake, showered and dressed before 7:15 am. Suckers. JB packed his Ninja lunch and I left a love note for him. According to JB I can never do that again.
Zach, buying in strongly to the family tradition of cramming before a test, dusted off his electronic game thing and watch a leap frog video on going to school.
Which gave me the chance to re-read the introduction letter only to realize that he did need to bring in the community supplies today.
M-kay, so here’s the thing. In general, I’m morally opposed to hand-sanitizer and triclosan is the devil. They give that stuff away so much now that I managed to find a little 2oz schwag bottle. Note that the supply list did not specify size, only that I bring a bottle.
Ragweed season brought post-nasal drip and a cough, so I handed him a cough drop. Then I took his first day of school picture.
Ahem. It’s a cough drop face. For serious.
Joel gets to +1 (for a grand total of six) his “good photos taken of Stephanie” count and managed to catch Z smiling.
He’s rocking some low-top chuck’s, but remains bitter that the light-up Spiderman shoes didn’t come in his size. While I realize he thinks the light-up shoes are way cooler, I know it’s in the chuck’s.
Nature/Nurture: Being ADHD when mixed with being an Army Brat made me a master level Tactician. It’s a gift. Having kids means knowing that a three minute walk can take at least 15.
We drove, we chatted. I met the teacher that would assess him today. I signed a form, delivered a gush of verbal vomit about his reading level that didn’t even make sense, kissed him goodbye, and started heading back to the car feeling pretty good about myself.
It took roughly half of a school-hall length before my perky exit became more Green Mile-y.
Hundred of kids, being tagged, ragged, and dragged into their various rooms of Indoctrination.
- One woman, dragging a sobbing kindergartner and drooling baby.
- A preteen in entirely-too-tight-shorts rolling her eyes at her mother.
- A dad, wiping his eye…
BAM! When a redhead even considers crying, subtlety is not an option. Red nose? Puffy eyes. Fair skin’ll get you like that.
During the ride home I had sort of snuffled myself under control. Walking in the door and seeing the youngest one reading Clifford Goes on a Class Trip? BAM-BAM.
In our family of four, only three of us have lives in upheaval. I handled it by reorganizing the pantry and building cabinets. Z handled it by moping and listening to indie rock. E handled it by… I don’t know– I never asked.
Alright, let’s just go for the gulping sobs, hmmm?
“Wait”, you say. You took a picture of yourself crying? Tres lame.
Listen, I typically cry in anger, or from watching Pixar movies. That girly cry-because-he’s-growing-up-thing doesn’t really… I mean, being sad that he’s old enough for kindergarten seems wrong, especially since death is the only alternative to aging.
So I didn’t think I was sad. Oh, but how.
E: Why do you have tears, Mommy?
Me: Grown-ups get sentimental sometimes about big stuff like first days of school.
E: Stop crying, Dude. Zach is just at school, it’s not like he’s staying there. So just stop it.
Well, when you put it that way.