Not a creature was stirring,
Except for an excitable Oliver and a cantankerous Charlie fighting sleep,
and their mother who, true to personality of school-related procrastination, is just now looking at the other five forms I need to fill out and have back in the morning, thinking that school hasn't even started and I'm already forming bad habits, but forming good intentions in my head of how to organize myself for permission slips (I'm signing my first one, ever, tonight), school handbooks, and teacher contact information, wondering if I can get away with buying a cute 3-ring binder because I need it to keep organized, never mind that we have fifteen unused binders, but they're all gross colors like I'm-a-seventy-six-year-old-man-maroon, or no-frills-just-need-utility-blah-blue, and heaven forbid we use a grown-up binder for preschool. I have another picture to print out so that means I'll be agonizing over months of past mugs to pic (pun intended) out just the right one, but it can't be too far back because then it won't be current, though whatever I choose won't be current in two months anyway, which is the business of growing up, isn't it, that is making me a little sad today. And of course I don't need to make a "First Day of Preschool" sign for Oliver to hold in front of the house, or the car, or school, or all three, but if I don't and I decide to take a yearly pic of the first day of school here on out I would never forgive myself for missing out on the very first day of preschool, which after all seems to be the most important. So after an hour of Pinterest research and Facebook inquiries, I'm going for a standard poster-board, because, as noted, I'm too overwhelmed to go out and buy a special blackboard or vintage pictureless frame. So posterboard, though creased from Charlie's climbing adventures, it shall be.
Oliver is very excited. He loves learning and has been talking about school since February. When we met his teachers and saw his room during orientation last Thursday, he tugged on my pantleg relentlessly while I was talking; I picked him up finally and he said, with just a slight tone of annoyance: "BYE, Mama." He thought he was staying for class, and I was washed over with equal parts sad and happy that he was confident to let me go. We have rehearsed this past week what tomorrow will be like, with great detail, and have dished up heaping amounts of over-excitement so that it will be a positive experience with as little fear as possible. But let's be honest. He's fine. I'm the one needing a little encouragement.
Because what this means is that Oliver is officially wiggling out from under my wing. This year is the start of the launch into life independent, and I will have him with me less and less each year. My own identity will change to "Oliver's Mom," and then soon "Charlie's Mom," in the context of their classrooms, teams, troupes and musical ensembles. It's not just playdates and errands anymore. It's field trips, supply lists, medical forms, and school pictures. Tomorrow is the first day of a lot more than preschool.
We held a garage sale three months ago, and this was the week that we chose to finally donate or sell what didn't get hauled away that day in June (see above RE: procrastination habits). There are four huge tubs of Tupperware full of baby clothes that are on their way to be consigned this week. The timing was not well-thought out in regards to my emotional state, and it will be Michael bringing in those bins, thank you very much. I'm in no shape to hand over the onesies my boys grew up in, further sealing the deal of growing up and out. (Michael: when you go, take the cash you get back and please bring me a Caribou, medium skim mint condition with whip, made with milk chocolate. I will need something to wash away the sorrow and it might as well be tasty and mood-altering.) Just before the garage sale, in sorting the infant apparel, I showed Oliver what he wore four years ago on the day he left the hospital.
Seems like I just found the picture I needed to print out for tomorrow's forms. Now I will just need to hand it over, a long with an enormous amount of other things.
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