First Day of School with Many Firsts

This time of year always brings so much excitement to our home.  The summer heat begins to subside for the cooler Fall weather to slowly creep in, the grass that went dormant (or died) from the heat is showing promise that it's coming back, any leaves left on the trees not killed by the drought will change soon, and most importantly, a new school year means shopping for school supplies and new clothes.

I love it.  Or, I used to love it.

This year, I dreaded it.  I'm one of those rare birds who do not want to send my children off to school (but know better than to home-school them because I need them to learn more than cuss words).  This past summer, I saw more of Ally's personality emerge, and fought the balance of letting her become her own person vs. controlling her to prevent a monster-diva from emerging.  It was not easy, but often times fun and I think an ongoing project.

We saw an explosion in Ethan's speech.  In May, his speech therapist transitioned him over to the district, and we enrolled him into a preschool specializing in speech development.  When you add his expanding vocabulary with his already animated expressions, there is little need for cable (except for the Olympics--let us not forget the men's swimming and diving events).  Because his school is almost 2 miles away, he gets to ride on a bus to and from school each day.  I struggled with this, but decided to let him ride the bus because it was something unique to his routine, and I thought would add to the excitement of going to a new school.

But as we got closer to the day, the more my stomach hurt.  It literally hurt every night to the point I could not sleep.  Finally, the day came for Ally's first day.

Her nervousness made her wake well before her usual time, eyes brimming with tears when she came into my room.  Last year, she cried almost every single day, and I did not want to go through that again.  I had to lie and tell her the principal said there is no crying in second grade.  You can gasp and judge all you want, but a key to my parenting method is determining which lies will have long-lasting detrimental effects weighed against the benefits of said lies.  In this case, it worked!  She got moving and ready for school.

It is impossible for Ally to pretend to be impressed with my ideas.

Finally, a sweet and toothless smile I will always cherish, and she will always hold against me.

Once at school, she caught up with some of her best friends before they excitedly stormed the school.

Ethan did not know what to make of his sister's excitement to be with anyone other than him.

I believe she's telling me to get out and quit embarrassing her.

Once Ethan and I left, we loitered outside the school to catch up with other parents and their children.  Can you believe Ethan was the only boy in a sea of beautiful little girls?  That is one lucky little guy.

This is the sweetest little girl. She always looks after Ethan and makes sure he crosses the street safely.

This year was the closest I'd come thus far to shedding tears after seeing Ally off to school.  And, it was the first year she did not shed a single tear when I left.  I know she is in great hands; she has a wonderful teacher and a lot of old friends with the opportunity to make many new ones.  I am sad my little girl is growing up so fast, but excited and happy for her.

Ethan and I went home to enjoy our last full day together.  Because what hit us on his first day of school was unexpected.

This little clown told me "Take this, Mom!" and made this face.

This is his "happy face". Sure makes me laugh.

He was so excited, he refused to sit on the porch with me while waiting for the bus.

Once he got on the bus, he turned around and asked me "Mommy, you go, too?" This is when the unwelcommed and unsolicited lump formed in my throat and refused to leave.

And before I knew it, he was gone.  I couldn't stay another minute, and went inside, thinking I could pull myself together.  I could not.  Suddenly and without any preamble, the tears came and I started crying.  Sobbing.  Loud, snot-dripping, ugly-face crying.  I couldn't stop, no matter how hard I tried.  I even tried to scare myself into stopping by looking in the mirror, but that just made it worse.  Pathetic.

I solemnly swear to never laugh at another parent who cries on the first, last or any day in between of school.  I get it.  And I am sorry for all the jokes I made at your expense in the past.