I keep reading on Facebook how many mothers promise themselves they're not going to cry. And then they do when they kiss their sweet baby goodbye for the first of many, many days in school. As a side note, I wonder if Joel's mom knew when she kissed him goodbye that he would be in school for essentially 24 and a half years.
Silas will attend a university model, classical Christian school. On M/W/F, I will teach him at home. On T/Th, he will go to classes all day with other children his age. I'm interested to see how K5 Latin is taught. I'm even more excited that I get to learn it as I teach it. I have such high expectations of my children speaking French, Italian, Spanish...
Oh, but then there was today.
This morning was the classroom open house, where we were supposed to find out where Silas' room is, get a picture with his teacher, drop off supplies, etc. I expended a moderate amount of effort to find someone to watch the younger kids so just Silas and I could attend and maybe get to know some of his classmates. No babysitter; tough cookies.
I was adamant that we find out before school starts that we can make it somewhere on time. At 8:40, I was giving mean looks and yelling, "Who locked the van doors!!" and "Fine! You can have the paci if you'll get in your car seat!!" and "JUST WEAR THE IRONMAN BOOTS!!!!"
We arrived at 8:58, leaving 2 minutes to spare! 10 points to me.
I (correctly) assumed that I would have to do some chasing Liza around so I opted to wear baby Millie in the sling. This wasn't an easy decision. If I took the stroller, I could have all that grocery cart-like space below for hauling the books, construction paper, glue, markers etc. But if I had to make a quick break to catch Liza, I would be leaving a tiny baby unattended. That wouldn't look good in front of other moms or Silas' teacher. I had to make her believe I'm responsible and I already had some things going against me. For one, Liza's hair was crazy. For two, Micah has a busted lip, completely black and blue, and a sliced chin from a fall at a friend's house last night. For three, no one had matching clothes on, except baby Millie whose clothes you couldn't see because she was in the sling. So, the sling was the most practical choice, plus I thought it would make me look like a cool mom, totally connected to her infant all the while meeting the safety needs of the other children. I also had my cool bandana headband on. I was hoping for "au natural" and "too cool to care" but I'm pretty sure it just came off as "no, no shower this morning."
There we were. The perfect little family. I was wearing my precious happy Millie, carrying a box of books and supplies and holding Micah's hand while Silas and Liza walked calmly hand in hand toward the building. This lasted all of 90 seconds once we got inside. We rounded the corner to see one of my worst enemies right now: a water fountain. A water fountain is like a tantrum trigger to Liza. I don't think this one needs anymore explanation.
As soon as we walked in the classroom, Micah glued himself to my leg and continued to nearly pull my pants off since they didn't fit quite right. Liza did the opposite. Instead of staying close by, she tried to run out of the room several times. Other moms asked how I was doing with thinking about the first day of school but all I could say was, "Sorry, what? Hang on, I have to find my daughter."
We were the last family to have our picture taken with Silas and the last family in the room, which was good because I had to explain why we would be arriving the first day in the wrong uniform and with the wrong backpack. No problem there. We waved goodbye to Mrs. Brown and headed for the door.
On the way down the hall, a couple of moms stopped me to ask about baby Millie. She IS adorable and I now welcome the opportunity to talk to others about adoption so I stopped to chat briefly with a young mom. She told me her family was about to have a home study and she was nervous. At this point, Silas, Micah and Liza were wrestling together on the ground, rolly-poly like bear cubs. They were being nice to each other and mostly out of everyone's way, so I thought I could take the moment to hear this mom's concerns.
I should have just asked for this mom's phone number. But you know how it is. You sit down to call your friend and someone pees on the floor. That didn't seem like a good time to try to tell someone how God has touched your life through adoption. So instead, I tried to listen until I noticed the wrestling had ended and Liza was watching the boys try to open the fire extinguisher box. I quickly put a stop to that and thought surely the mom had gone on her way, seeing that I was out of control of my youngsters. But she looked like she had more to say (and I certainly understand that...). I tried to listen, but when I saw the children jumping up and down on the couches in the lobby, I apologized and said I would have to look for her on a school day after drop-off.
In the my-children-are-perfect fantasy, I tell the children gently and playfully that we only sit on couches and we would have to leave now because they had chosen to behave to like little monkeys. They would nod, maybe one with a penitent tear in her eye, and we would quietly exit the building.
Instead, the boys giggled and got down and started running for the door. Thankfully, they stopped there because Liza had thrown herself on the floor for her second tantrum. I gave her the choice that I do every time: you can hold my hand to the car or I can carry you. She refused to hold my hand but in the moment I had failed to consider that I was already holding one child. Remember? In the sling? So I picked up Liza, slung her around onto my back and carried the two people out to the minivan. I looked sort of like this:
But with no hat, no smile, more sweat, larger small baby, and screaming toddler.
