My Side of the Story (this is my longest post ever, but I wanted the details for myself. Sorry.))

August was one of those brief phases in life that you don't want to end but can't wait until it's over.  I was so glad to have time with the girls all home and I felt like the summer went too fast, but I was happy anticipating the great experiences they would have once school started. Mostly I needed to get all of us to the point where we were in a routine and over our fears. Particularly me.

After the class assignments came, I talked a lot of brave talk to my anxious little Madeleine, and then I found a quiet minute alone to personally freak out. Last June, a parent I met in a random encounter felt compelled to unload her negative opinion about Mrs. Johnson on me and encouraged me to take pains to avoid her. Since then I had feared the worst in regards to Madeleine's class assignment and now the worst was happening. I was also sad that Madeleine didn't have her friends in her class because I knew how important that was to her. I didn't know how help improve her perspective when the view didn't look too great from where I sat either. My first course of action was to email Luke in a panic. He replied in his typically unruffled tone, "Everyone has at least one weird teacher. She'll be fine." I sat on my bed in tears telling myself three things; 1) just because one kid and their parents didn't hit it off with this teacher doesn't make her a horrible person and an inexcusable educator. WE might like her even if they didn't. 2) I believe with all my heart that our Father in Heaven knows my daughter, her situation, and her needs. I have faith that He will watch over her and teach her what she needs to learn. If that means being in a class with a difficult teacher then He will help me to know how I can support Madeleine and bring to pass His will for her.  3) I'll watch that teacher like a hawk and if she makes one wrong move toward Madeleine so help me . . .

Beyond concern for Madeleine, I had been apprehensive for weeks about simply being able to pull this off. Getting everyone up, dressed, fed, out the door, homework done, papers signed, snacks packed, uniforms clean . . . for all three kids everyday - the thought of the physical demand had me scared sick. I became fully convinced that if I didn't live up to all of it everyday then their adjustment to school would be difficult and I would be at fault. How would they feel if they got to school and they didn't have what they needed? What would they do if I dropped them off at the wrong place or at the wrong time? What would they think if all the other kids knew what was going on and they didn't because I had forgotten to tell them? Going from one child in school to three  gave me a new empathy for the parents of twins. Instead of gradually easing into the next phase one child at time, we were jumping in two at once. On top of that, the one child who should already be comfortable regarding school was the most disconcerted!  For the next two weeks I tried to appear at my best and braced for the worst. 

I became an expert in subtle propaganda tactics. Suddenly, there were all kinds of reasons we needed to stop in at the school. I guided the girls through the hallways with butterflies in my stomach, hoping each visit would put them more at ease. When we went to the family picnic I was so tense I was literally sore by the time we got home. On "class gathering" day I was too anxious to go to the "parent reception" portion of the event. Who could eat a muffin at a time like that?!

By the conclusion of the back-to-school social events, I had stacks of forms to fill out and pictures to send in and the kids had "homework" that was supposed to go with them on the first day. The night before school I stayed up until midnight working on all the paperwork and printing photos that the teachers had requested. Finally, I made a decision; I was not going to do it. I would not be the mother who had everything completed, in order, and delivered on the first day. I would not. My kids would be there with or without their paperwork and the world would keep turning. Come to think of it, there's still a sheet from Mary's class I need to fill out around here somewhere . . . I set aside what was yet unfinished and tried, unsuccessfully for the most part, to sleep.

I teetered through the morning of the first day as though I  was keeping my balance on the edge of a cliff. Ok, maybe it wasn't THAT bad. More accurately, I felt as though I was only one wrong move away from completely unraveling. But, as you discovered in my post about the first day of school, we survived. I didn't even break down when I realized I was supposed to have brought Mary's book bag, although I came close for a second.  All in all, I really enjoyed the first day. I found it delightful to watch each girl as their distinctly different personalities were reflected in their reactions. Even with all my mom-guilt and fears of inadequacy, taking them to school was a joy. I am so grateful for their opportunities and so hopeful for the possibilities in their futures. The element of drama took it's toll though.  I brought Mary and Beth home at 11:00 and I went back to bed at 11:05 :) 

Dropping Beth off for her first day of class in Kindergarten was far less nerve racking than the previous day. She CELEBRATED going to school. Her expression was adorable beyond words as she entered the room, found her cubby, and went to her seat. She gushed and giggled and sighed blissfully, beaming with pride that she was now, officially, in school. I reveled in the moment and was so happy for her. I smiled all the way to the car and out of the parking lot. Then I cried the whole way home. My little girl, off to school and so big now. Exactly what do you call that feeling when the joy derived from loving your child squeezes your heart so tightly it hurts? Mary heard my sniffles and asked what was wrong. I answered, "I'm just a little sad because I am going to miss Beth while she is at school." (pause from the back seat) "Well, we're going to go get her and bring her home today!" "I know," I laughed, "I'll stop crying in a few minutes." (another pause) "You don't have to stop crying," Mary offered practically, "You can still eat when you are crying." Later, I noticed a message from Tori's mom. She had kindly called to commiserate with me, sharing that she was "having a sad moment" as she drove home. Her thoughtfulness in that moment couldn't have been more appreciated. 

The next day Mary had her first day of class. Her demeanor was subdued as she approached her cubby and she would not be coaxed into a smile for my ever-clicking camera. Not until I led her further into the classroom did it occur to me that I never prepared her for "extended day," the extra hour after her class when she would stay and have lunch. I hurriedly tried to explain the procedure as well as the reason (so I could collect her at the same time that Beth is dismissed), and finally left her in her teacher's hands.  Confident that Mrs. Kristie had things under control, I headed home, alone. The car had never felt so quiet. My thoughts seemed so loud they virtually echoed in my mind.  I made a mental note to start bringing my IPOD in the car with me. In the five years that I'd had it, I'd not yet connected it in the car. The girls chattering away from the back seats always provided enough background noise before. Without them the silence was odd.  Entering the quiet house was different though. I looked around, sighed with relief, and smiled slowly. Three hours, all to myself . . .

We've been in the school mode for several weeks now.  It's a daily scramble, as opposed to the controlled and orderly process I continue to envision, but we are happy. The routine is demanding but the structure is good for us. So far no one has gone without an essential item and I haven't forgotten to pick anyone up after school. And guess what? Madeleine's teacher is really great! (Moral of that story: if you don't like your kids teacher, keep it to yourself so you don't cause other people to lose sleep! ) Madeleine really likes her and I have found her to be professional, qualified, reasonable, creative, and helpful.  Beth is thriving and constantly announcing the beginning of new friendships. Mary has the "extended day" leaders wrapped around her finger and though she drags her feet and insists "it's boooring" she is smiling when I pick her up from school.

Thus begins a new phase for me and I'm not %100 sure how I feel about it yet. Previously, the next step was laid out before the last was taken - each school grade proceeded another, college followed high-school, a mission followed college, getting married was ahead as I left my mission behind,  and after each baby I anticipated another before long. Now here I am, dangling from the last link in that chain of events and wondering what comes next when your baby was your last.  Please don't misunderstand me. I'm at no loss as to how to fill my time. My question isn't with what, but in what order? Perhaps I should get my Master's, or start a part-time career, or become engulfed in a new hobby. Someday, maybe. For now, I'm beyond content to enjoy my children in this new phase of theirs, and occasionally take a nap:)