Pomp and Circumstance

I am so proud of my sister-in-law! She graduated last weekend with her Child Care Certificate and is now back in school already going after her elementary education degree. Honestly, I'm a little jealous... some day I'll finish school... ;)

Oh, as a bonus, here is a picture of me and hubby relaxing before her grad ceremony...

Wake Me Up When September Ends

It’s been a busy month in the Working Mom’s household. So here is an extra long post to fill you in on the yearly tradition we call the First Day of School.

First days of school are always milestones – signs that the world keeps marching on, and I have to move along with it before I get left behind. I remember when I was a kid, I could never sleep the night before the first day. So the next day I would get up out of bed tired and overly excited. I always ended up coming home with a migraine from lack of sleep, newness, and my brains total inability to deal with stress of change and information, even at my young age.

Now, here I am, 20 years and more later, preparing my three girls for their first days of school. Both twins went to preschool last year; they were at different schools in different programs, on different days. They both went for 2 and a half hours twice a week – so it was minimal upheaval in their heavily scheduled lives. But this year, they are in pre-K, a.k.a. 4-year-old Kindergarten. They still go just twice a week, however, their short 2.5 hour days have turned into long, full, 7-hour days. It seems like such a big step. And the girls were so excited to be going back to school.

Belle returned to her same school. Gabby made the transition to Belle’s school – the Catholic school in town. Belle was excited to see her friends from last year, and Gabby seemed to already accept them as her friends, even before she met them, after listening to Belle talk about them incessantly all summer. And me, well, I am always excited to see my girls take on a new chapter of their lives – and I am enjoying the huge cut in their hours at daycare.

In addition, Deborah started preschool at the same school. She had the first crack at school on Tuesday. Lucky me, the girl got placed in the afternoon class – right over nap time. And if there is a kid who relies on her naps, it’s Deborah. She welcomes it each day, and now I was forcing her to cut it out twice a week. What the hell am I thinking??? She did fantastic her first day, and I managed to leave her there with no major breakdowns on her part, and I smiled as I left, knowing that she would do great in school. My kid’s a freakin’ genious, so I have no worried, right? Riiiiiiight. I picked her up that afternoon, and she was happy and chipper. The second we got home she decided that she hated school and her teacher hit her. *sigh* Gotta love that kid. She promptly fell asleep on the pillow on the floor.

Belle and Gabby were both supposed to start last Wednesday. Lo and behold, both girls came down with fevers and general icky feelings on Tuesday afternoon. By morning, Gabby was all better, but Belle was worse. So, Gabby started school all on her own, with no twin sister for support. She was excited and not even phased that Belle wasn’t there. Belle, of course, was devastated, but once the puking began, I don’t think she cared any more.

When I went to pick Gabriella up at the end of her first day, I walked into the classroom and was greeted by a sweaty, sticky 4-year-old, who looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. I walked in and she ran to me and started crying. She was overheated and SO incredibly tired. I knew that it was going to be tough to handle the first few long days, especially since they usually nap after lunch for an hour or two, but I didn’t figure it would be that bad. I thought my kid was going to pass out. I got her home, and she fell asleep on the couch for the afternoon, while Belle, who was still feverish, vegged out in my bed watching cartoons. Deborah, free of her older sisters’ wrath, played quietly by herself for almost 3 hours. I had to wake the twins for dinner. It was a blissfully quiet afternoon, but I knew it couldn’t always be like that. And boy, is it true.

Deborah was due to go again on Thursday afternoon. Due to a transportation snafu (read: ride didn’t come through and hubby and I both work an hour away) she missed Thursday’s class. I called her in to school as sick. Who would question it since her sister was sick the previous day?? Anyway, the poor kid missed out on coloring a picture of her grandparents for Grandparent’s Day. All of the other kids in class have one hanging in the hallway… not Deborah.

Belle finally went to class on Monday, with Gabriella towing along. Their day went fine, and Gabby was infinitely happier when I picked them up that day. But when we got home, all hell broke loose. I listened to fits, crying and fighting for 2 solid hours straight before I convinced them to sit on the couch to watch cartoons for a few minutes. 1.39 minutes later, both were OUT cold. Once again, Deborah played quietly by herself while I cooked dinner. I’m not sure I can handle this kind of schedule with them for long. I hope they adjust soon.

Deborah went to school again on Tuesday. What a nightmare dropping her off was. She sobbed and screamed for me not to leave her. The twins were so much easier at this age. I’m not sure why she’s so different… she’s just such a completely different entity than either of the twins…

Anyway, on to the point of this whole post. Today I finally had everything arranged so that thee twins could ride the bus to their school. That way, I could actually get to work at a decent hour, and the babysitter could pick them up at the bus in the afternoon, and I could get more then 5 hours in a day. Of course, being an important day to wake up early, I over-slept. I was having a dream about my alarm clock reading, in military time, 00:45. Hell, as far as I saw, I still had 5 hours to sleep!! Um, yeah, reality was that it was time to get my rear end out of bed, and quick. Typical me. So, I woke up at 6:50 and the girls woke right after me. In the space of 45 minutes, I managed to get every single morning chore done, the girls dressed and presentable, backpacks loaded and checked, fish and dogs in the house and fed. I tried to make sure I was also presentable, and I just barely passed.

We drove quickly down to the high school where all of the busses leave from. After running with the girls to three different busses (I wasn’t actually sure what time it was, or what time the busses left, let alone which bus my kids were supposed to get on since different busses go to 4 different schools), we finally arrived in the right line. After seeing that all of the other little ones had older kids who were in charge of them (bus buddies!), I talked to a 5th grade girl, who knew my kids, and handed them off to her to watch on the bus.


They got on with their 5th grade bus buddy and never even looked back. Deborah sobbed into my shoulder because she wanted to go on the bus with her big sisters, and I cried into her hair because my babies are growing up without my consent.

Funny how after all of these milestones over the last few days, the one that gets me is watching my twins board a big, long, yellow bus and wave at me from the window, grins lighting up their faces.

*sigh*

In My Back Yard

I've crossed that bridge thousands of times. Thousands. It used to be part of my daily commute. On my way to Twins games and Vikings games. On my way to the hospital to deliver my babies. On my way to visit family and friends. On my way to the mall.

And today, all I can do is thank God that me, and every member of my family is accounted for this morning. You see disasters like this and you think, "wow, thank God that doesn't happen here." Only it does. Today it happened in my own back yard.


As far as I can tell, we've been lucky. Only 4 confirmed dead this morning, down from 7 last night. But there are 20-30 more missing. It could have been much worse. MUCH worse. The bridge was down to one lane, under construction for resurfacing. Had the bridge been open as it usually is, there would have been 4 lanes of stopped, rush hour traffic heading in each direction. So, instead of 8 packed lanes of cars, trucks, and buses, there were 2. Thank God for small blessings.

Hubby's best friend works as a process server. He drives 10 hours a day. He crossed that bridge just 15 minutes before it collapsed. He called us soon after we heard that it had collapsed to say that he's never going over a bridge under construction again. He said that when he was driving over it, there were large patches of the bridge missing where you could look straight down into the water. While that's freaky, the experts keep telling us that had nothing to do with the collapse. We'll see how that turns out in the end, but I'm going to have to agree with the best friend for a while - I'll contain my trips over bridges to those that are fully intact.

I'm sending out thoughts and prayers to those who died, and to those who are still missing, and to their families. And I say thank you to all of those who risked their own lives to rescue and help others. And today, I'll count those small blessings that I usually take for granted. Because when something like this strikes so close to home, it's impossible to do otherwise.