The First Day of School

Alternately Titled: How I Lost my Mother Of The Year Award

Fish is not a morning person.  Actually, that’s not true, once awake, she can be bright and cheery, she just wakes VERY slowly.  I joke that it is best to poke the beast and back away.  Left to her own devices, she’d laze around in bed until 10am and stay up reading or educating her American Girl dolls until 10pm.  Sadly for her, the “real world” intervenes.

This year Fish started middle school.  Ours is a regional district (translation: looooooong bus ride to the middle and high school).  A few days before school started, I checked the bus schedule and confirmed that the pick up would be at o’dark hundred.

Fish is very independent and probably could get out the door unassisted, but I remember HAVING to get out the door unassisted as a kid and it was stressful.  I view my role at this age as supportive.  If she needs something done, she asks me to do it, but she takes care of most aspects of the morning routine herself while I enjoy my tea and catch up on email.

The week preceding the beginning of school, I rousted  her earlier and earlier each day. The day before school started, we had our annual Back-to-School Breakfast starting at 7am so we all had to be up and at ’em.  That night, she packed her lunch and asked me for help picking out clothes. Excitement was in the air, but we all made it to bed and even to sleep, at a reasonable hour. We both set our alarms.  The plan was that her alarm would be the initial poke and I would follow with a verbal reminder.

Fish close up, Fish running for the bus

Good plan.  Except her alarm didn’t go off and I some how snoozed mine twice.  I came to at about 6:20, the bus was due at 6:40am.  GAH!!! So much for the nice relaxing start to the first day of school.  Amazingly, we pulled it together and got to the bus with about 30 seconds to spare.

Smiling for the camera, Cool new shoes, obligatory silly face.

Thankfully, Mim’s morning ran a little more smoothly.  He awoke in a good mood, but as the time to depart for the bus grew near, he confessed to feeling nervous.  We  left in plenty of time and on the way down, to the stop, he asked to hold my hand.  I love the feeling of a small smooth hand in mine.  As he held on tight, he chattered about who he’d see and what he was going to do and say.  At the first rumble of the bus, he let go.  Once the red lights flashed, he gave me a “Bye Mama!” and took off without looking back.

His hand in mine

I have four years of this split schedule ahead of me and I can already tell, that I’m going to enjoy the time alone with each child that it provides.


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