I saw the boys off onto the bus for the first day of school this morning. I was not at all prepared for this school year--either physically or mentally. As mentioned here, here and here (god, am I the most boring person on Earth or what?) I never do any back-to-school shopping, and this year summer just seemed to fly by even faster than usual, and I approached the weekend (which we as usual spent away) having done nothing to prepare. So Friday I bought three new pairs of shoelaces (I knew at least one kid needed them) and brought home a stack of old binders from work (I knew one kid would need at least one of those).
We came home early-ish Monday and did what I think is probably the most important thing we could do to make the coming days go smoothly--clean the house.
Then I chopped these dreads off a certain boy's head,
cut Z's hair as well (E wanted to keep his long), gave all three baths, trimmed their nails, combed their hair for the first time in months (thus M's nappy do) and put them to bed early.
M is in fifth grad this year, which is Middle School here.
Meaning lockers, and changing classrooms, and health class and, I don't know, girls and dances next??
(Though when I told M that girls don't think boys with eye boogers are cute, he didn't seem too disturbed).
We learned today that his gifted and talented teacher resigned, and I was reminded (again) of how little I have control over.
E and Z are in first grade, which seems huge for some reason. Maybe it's because their K-1 teacher left and their starting out with a whole new teacher (she was just hired last Thursday, but so far the first day seems to have gone OK; she is reportedly more McGonagall than Snape).
Though Z complained when I picked him up that he "didn't learn anything today."
Imagine being such a vessel, just begging to be filled with knowledge.
E looked quite miserable as we raced up the driveway hand-in-hand (thinking we were late, forgetting that the bus is ALWAYS late on the first day, due to the driver learning new houses, and new kids not being outside in time, and annoying mothers holding things up to take their kids' pictures).
He looked about how I feel each morning on my march to the gallows.
Twenty minutes of dodging the camera in the rain seemed to cheer him up, though, and he marched onto the bus without a complaint or a push.
And yet one more chapter has opened as another closes.