So, when the ever so soft buzz started at 6:45 I hit the snooze, tapped my husband and laid there thinking that this is Kiddo #1's first day of school. First day.
I ticked off the invisible list in my head: lunch, snacks, water bottle, book bag with random essentials (including: eraser, but no pencils, Kleenex, 3 boxes of plastic spoons and 6 gallon sized Ziploc bags). I thought about what Kiddo #1 would wear and how I would do her hair and considered leaping from bed to make some waffle batter so she could eat something special on her first day of school.
I pulled up duvet and the blast of not-as-snuggly air on my legs reminded me that if I make her waffles today, she might expect them every day, or in the very least, every first day of school, and I'm not willing to commit to that, so I pulled the covers back down like a cocoon around me.
The alarm began softly buzzing again, so I rolled to the left to hit the snooze and to the right to hit Husband. "Honey, c'mon. It's time to get up." I said softly. It's funny that he can hear me when I say that, but he can sleep soundly while the baby screams at 3am. But who's counting?
Husband pads off to the shower and I get my slippers on and head down the hall to Kiddo #1's room. I gently nudge her and say, "Kiddo #1, this is it! It's your first day of school! Time to get up." She, like her father at 3am, rolls away from my quiet plea and continues sleeping.
I hear the baby stir in his room, so I get to the kitchen and start on a bottle. Wait. I go to the kitchen and begin making him a bottle. While it IS the first day of school for Kiddo #1, it's a touch early for me to "start on a bottle" myself. Ha.
I change the baby and get him eating and call back into Kiddo #1. The shower stops and Husband appears in the hallway in his towel. I implore him to try and get Kiddo #1 out of bed. He hobbles down the hallway toward her bedroom to awaken the girl.
"Honey, are you still limping from Old Man Soccer on Sunday?" He snorts. He groans. He says, "Yes. But, it's like, my calf from where I was kicked." Yes. Clearly.
I hear Kiddo #1 get up and start brushing her teeth. Good work, Husband-- I'd forgotten to put that on my mental list. He's more than just a hot husband, let me tell you.
Kiddo #1 comes pounding down the hallway like a heard of elephants announcing, "Momma! Today's the day I go to school!" She jumps up and down in one place while Kiddo #2 laughs his head off. I get dressed, get the boy dressed and lay out the girl's new school outfit. She looks at it and says, "But Momma, can I wear my Curious George t-shirt?"
I blink once. Twice. Three times. But, Kiddo #1, I made that new twirly, whirly skirt for you, and picked out the matching girlie shirt to go with it. And the Curious George shirt doesn't match the skirt. I blink again.
"Um. Yes. Sure. What do you want to wear for pants?"
"I want to wear the new skirt."
"Well, it doesn't match, though."
"What about one of my other skirts?"
I pull out the skirt that sorta matches the new t-shirt and we put it on her. It's the first twirly, whirly skirt I ever made her. She's probably worn it 10 thousand times and, as far as I'm concerned, you can tell that it's been worn 10 thousand times. I take a deep breath. Ok. I'm not having a fight about a skirt right now. She needs to be comfortable and confident. She needs to match.
We put it on her and I do her hair. She heads to the kitchen and begins eating breakfast. I can't stop thinking about how she was supposed to wear her new skirt and now she's wearing some old skirt and how this day is really just not going how I'd imagined it.
I look at the clock and it's time to start heading to the bus. She puts on her old, ratty flip flops (her new, pretty ones broke and the replacements haven't arrived yet, sigh) and I smile. I go to put Kiddo #2 in his stroller so we can walk to the bus together and she says, "Um. Momma. I think you need to know that you can't walk me to the bus."
I thought you were 4, not 14. What?
"Well, it's just that I need to walk there all by myself and stand with my friends by myself, so that I can get on the bus."
"Well, since it's your first day, though, maybe we can walk to the bus stop together?"
She taps her chin while contemplating this very important decision. I mean really. Husband, chuckling, says, "Honey, what if we all walked to the bus together? I think it would be nice."
Gug-gug, gug-gug, gug-gug-- this kid is walking so quickly it's hard for us to even get the walking-away-to-school pictures!
We get to the bus stop and wait. "Momma. Um. I think you should practice jumping behind this bush."
"Why?" I questioned, wishing I'd now brought my sneakers if I'm going to be jumping and hiding and crap.
"Well, when the bus comes you're going to have to hide so that the bus driver doesn't think you should get on the bus, too. Because it's just me going to school today." Ah yes.
While we wait, a family of boys arrives. Their mother and I chat about first days of school. Husband stands there until I give him the "For GOD'S SAKE take pictures while I'm chatting and trying to remain calm or I won't have anything to scrapbook later and it will be ALL YOUR FAULT!" look. Ding, ding, ding goes the camera.
The school bus pulls up. Kiddo #1 is first in line. She tells her name to the bus driver and puts her foot up on the stair. Then she stops. She turns around and comes back down. She runs over and gives me a big hug and kiss. She runs to her Poppa and gives him a big hug and kiss and she kisses brother on the top of the head. She runs back to the bus, gets on and waves from the first seat.
Choking back sobs, I wave back. I don't even know if those other kids even got on the bus for the anguish my heart was going through.
As the bus pulls away, I'm really wishing for my shoes instead of flip flops now-- I'm booking it home to put the baby in the car and drive like Hell to school so I can covertly watch Kiddo #1 get off the bus.
I snap some pictures and wave at a little girl who can't see me, anyway, and get back into the car.
Oh thank heaven. The baby is screaming. The second most heart-attack inducing sound in the world keeps me from sobbing all the way home.
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