Today is the first day of school.
Summer was good to us and it is hard to let it go. (Especially because today is the hottest day of the year!) But, alas, we must stop living like we don't have a care in the world. Our home must stop looking like a frat house on a Sunday morning. We've got to start being responsible for something, reporting to someone, and dressing like respectable human beings, not simply pulling over our heads the first crumpled and stained article of clothing that we can dig out from under the bed. (The boys did that. Not me. Ever. Ahem....)
Hello to homework, schedules, soccer, copious amounts of school paper work, meal planning and healthy snacks.
And hello to some quiet time for me.
You see, I just dropped Cora off at preschool for the very first time.
So......here I sit.
Absolutely, positively and completely alone. During the middle of the day. For an extended period of time. And this will happen every day. My brain is trying compute this new phenomenon.
I feel like a teenager who just got her license and I could go anywhere I want and even skip school and not get in trouble if I'm careful. The whole world is my oyster!!!!! The sea has parted and possibilities have opened up!!!!
I thought I would go to the shoe store and try on ONLY the shoes that I want without a 3 year old avid shoe-lover insisting that I try on every sparkly, bejeweled and 6 inch heel in sight.
I considered a leisurely stroll through the mall without having to visit the germ-irific public restroom every 15 minutes because, apparently, children's bladders are the size of a "kid"ney bean. And FYI, the "kid"ney beans don't all sync up and have to empty at the same time.
It is too hot for a run today, but at least I could do that if I so desired. Or I could eat my lunch in one sitting. Or close my eyes and take a rest.
With the world at my feet and the possibilities only limited to the scope of my imagination (and the 3 hour preschool time limit), I decided on a plan.
I came home and went to the bathroom.
ALL. BY. MYSELF.
No one was jiggling the door handle asking me where their missing shoe might be found. No one was barging in in desperation to relieve themselves in MY toilet (which I would be currently utilizing) because for some reason the other three porcelain thrones were not good enough.
No one was pressing their bodies to the floor outside the door, pushing their lips through the crack of the door trying to tell me that someone took their cookie or looked at them wrong or called them a name or asking me when I was going to be done or what was I doing in there anyway?
I heard no noises that would make me have to yank up my pants in an unladylike rush because either the house was about to fall down around my ears or a child was in grave danger.
Nothing of the sort happened that was at all interesting or alarming.
I just heeded the call of nature and then casually went on my way.
And since I'm a rather efficient person and I had approximately 2 hours and 58 minutes left until my solitude was up, I did the things that mothers all over the world do, every day. I turned on some music and swept the floor. And "Happy" came on! It is the song that I always insist everyone stop what they are doing and dance and clap with reckless abandon. Kai gets the reckless part, Owen gets the happy part, Cora gets the dancing and clapping part and Drew gets the abandon part and tries to escape the dance interlude altogether. While I danced to that song today, all by myself, I tried not to look at the clock.
I cleaned the counters and put in a load of laundry. I thought of the apple, peach and raspberry picking we did yesterday when I saw the red stain on Owen's favorite fluorescent shirt. (And I tried not to look at the clock.)
I put away the dishes and was assured that every item would be in its correct place because Drew wasn't the one unloading the dishwasher and getting creative with the pot stacking. (And I tried not to look at the clock.)
I put dinner in the crock-pot for our stay-at-home-Taco-Tuesday event and remembered the reason we'll be staying home for Taco Tuesday in the first place: The last time we went out for the event, Kai spilled his red drink all over the table, the food, himself, me and the floor. And more egregious, I totally lost my temper. (And I tried not to look at the clock.)
I made a grocery list and was sure to include tissue because all Cora can talk about is bringing a box of "tiss-oo" to preschool just like her boys got to bring to their classrooms. (And I tried not to look at the clock.)
Three hours is a long time. Long enough for me to realize that, although I am many things, I am a mother who, above all else, loves her children. I even like them most of the time! They make me better and bring out the worst in me, too. They remind me that life is full of rich experiences that have nothing to do with money or status or the size of my thighs. I'm humbled to get to have them forever; pulling my strings, pushing my buttons, and jumping up and down on my last nerve. Hugging my neck, stepping all over my feet, kissing my cheeks and staining my clothes.
And just like that, it is 3:30.
