boys safely off to school

This year, we're trying something new: John and I decided the boys would ride the school bus. The bus stops half a block (plus the two-block alley) from our door so it seems foolish to drop them at school for their early start (8:05 a.m.). We spent so much time talking about the bus—where they get on, what to expect on the ride, and where to get off—that we failed to mention what happens after they arrive at school. Their new school. The one they've only visited once, at the Open House last week. Putting together all the information seemed to be a little much for them.

Okay, I can't lay it all on the boys' door. It was a little much for me. (hangs head in near-shame)

Last night when we were tucking them into bed, Simon was a little concerned about how to get from the front door of school, a heavy bag of supplies and his little brother in tow, to his classroom. Winston was totally panicked about finding his classroom. Poor little guy. He even had a whopper of an anxiety-based nightmare (a blue monster was in our house, so I had to get everyone out, then I killed it and buried it the backyard, but then it came back to life and got free). I never slept well before the first day of school, either. Mostly because I was so flippin' excited to get back to school and see my "town" friends, most of whom I hadn't seen during the summer (don't ask—it's not like we didn't have a car or drive the ten miles to town, daily). Unlike Winston's monster dream, my dreams were along the lines of forgetting homework—or my shirt, arriving at school in only my bra.

John and I offered the boys a ride to school and a walk-through from the bus drop-off. I have to admit I feel better, too. Don't get me wrong, I'm really excited about the independence afforded by riding the bus and navigating their way through the school. I just wasn't ready for it this morning.

At school, we ran into our friend Steve and his daughter Z, who looked adorable— carefully dressed in pink short-sleeve oxford shirt with ruffles, a pleated, plaid, knee-length skirt, and leggings. Steve mentioned that she'd been planning her back-to-school look for weeks. Boy did that unearth a nostalgic pang. When I was in elementary school, my preparations for the first day of school involved setting my hair on bristle rollers the night before so that I might have glamorous, wavy hair. Going to bed with rollers in my hair only ensured that I had a lousy night sleep. And, my stubborn, thick but poker straight hair never was wavy, rather bent at the ends and poufy on top.

My apologies for the lack of photos. We've done a traditional "first day of school" photo for the past couple years, but in our haste this morning, I forgot to pack the camera. When I mentioned it at school, Simon said, "That's okay, Mom." Not in an "I forgive you for your error" sort of way, but in an "I'm so glad you're not going to embarass me" sort of way.

We've come to that. Sigh.