verdict

I had to give this whole school thing a full two weeks to sit and age before I made a progress report. You’re lucky I refrained from blogging that first Monday. Everything about that day was horrible. For me. Jackson was fine. Because he didn’t wait in the car line for an hour to pick himself up. Which seemed exponentially worse because I could see him standing with his class in front of the school about thirty yards away, but with a million cars between us I couldn’t do a thing except watch him for an hour while inching forward a foot at a time. Thirty yards, a million cars. Doesn’t seem possible, but it was.

I tried my best to remain alert and not doze off. The alarm went off at six o’clock that morning and I hadn’t been up that early in… months. I’m going to be completely honest here and confess that since Caleb has been home from Iraq, he’s been footing the childcare in the mornings. In fact, I got used to easing out of bed every morning like a well rested slug and finding the boys fed, clothed, happily playing, and my husband long since departed for work. I feel so lazy even admitting to this that I almost omitted it, but I have to give credit where it is due. Obviously, that would be to Caleb. For just being amazing. And for all those extra hours of sleep that I wracked up. I’m pretty sure they made me a better person.

So consuming my third cup of coffee, and eyeing the stream of cars before me, I waited for an hour in the line. Then there was a small kerfuffle when it was finally time to claim my kid. It’s not good enough for the parent to give the child’s name, date of birth, height, weight… “The one in the red shirt, with the big blue eyes! He eats salad with tomatoes, beats Bowser Jr. every afternoon, and I labored nine hours to have him! He’s mine, please give him to me!” Instead, they wait for the child to identify their own car. Which works like a great safety feature, unless your son just stands there and stares like he doesn’t have a clue. And I’m breaking into a sweat and waving nervously and the loader is standing there asking Jack over and over “Is this your car? Is this your mommy?” For one insane minute I thought they weren’t going to put him in, then suddenly Jack snapped out of his trance and Oh hey Mom! When did you get here?

I barely made it into the garage before I was calling Caleb, all “school is awful, I’m tired, Jackson barely recognized me and I might as well spend the rest of my life sitting in that car line!”

“So… how is Jack?”

“He loved it and he can’t wait until tomorrow.”

I guess the point is, having a Kindergartener is a huge adjustment. I may get there eventually.