The first day of the 2010-11 school year is in the books.
I laughed. I cried.
And then I cried.
Can you blame me? My third child started kindergarten, and the sight of him looking all Big Kid in his school uniform started the waterworks.
I was done in by big boy bravado.
The now-traditional "First Day of Shoes" picture was taken, and it has earned spot number 5 in my 365 days of Project Picture. The school-mandated, required white tennis shoes are so blindingly white, that they represent newness, and a fresh start. It was the picture of the day for me, because as I looked at three pairs of little-feet-that-aren't-so-little anymore, the memories came rushing back.
Do you see that pair of feet all the way to the right in the picture? They belong to my 9-year old son. My 9-year old son who now wears MEN'S shoes. As in, shoes big enough to be worn by adult MEN. As in, big people. As in, DUDE, WHO REPLACED MY BABY WITH THIS BIG GUY WITH BOATS FOR FEET? I remember smooshing those same feet in my hands less than a decade ago, kissing them, playing "My Little Piggy," with them, and sticking them all up in my face to play "Peek-a-Boo". Now I can say with all honesty that I don't want those feet anywhere near my face. Or my mouth. Although I positively adore the boy attached to said feet, they are FEET, people. And feet kind of gross me out. Unless they are baby feet. To which I no longer have daily access.
Our morning rush was painless, all breakfast foods were eaten without complaints, the drive to school was traffic-free, and 4 out of 4 of my children actually let me take their picture. I attended the welcome donut breakfast at school and caught up with friends, listened to the kindergarten orientation, and then headed over to the preschool orientation. By 10:30 a.m., I was home again with big plans for the day, which never actually came to fruition, because the up-and-down emotions of the day wore me out completely.
Obviously that required me to pop myself on the couch most of the afternoon and catch up with my old friends Tim Gunn, Michael Kors, Nina Garcia and Heidi Klum.
Seriously. I was one box of bon-bons away from a bad housewife stereotype.
Not my proudest moment.
I did manage to throw some scraps of food at my preschooler and kindergartener (he only had school for an hour on this first day), and I scarfed down a big plate of hummus and pita chips for lunch along with an icy glass of Diet Coke. While lying down. On the couch. In front of the TV. Simultaneously getting crumbs all over the carpet. Because I'm crazy like that.
In other words, I was the Mayor of Lazy City. And the City Council. All rolled into one big pile of lazy.
I loved every minute of it. My house is a mess and I couldn't care less.
I earned this day. It has been a long time coming.
By 2:30, I couldn't wait to see my kids' faces again, and I was thrilled to hear about the day. Although after watching back-to-back Tim Gunn, I almost told them, "Make it work, kids. Make it work." Or, my favorite Tim Gunn-ism, "I am woeful."
But I wasn't feeling woeful at all.