Fall Round-Up, Before It Becomes Winter

First day of school, September 2016.

It has happened. They are all in full day school.

Intellectually, I knew the day would come (and to be honest, it's what got me through the summer). But the reality of adding another four hours of kid-free time to my work day (and my non-work days) cannot pass without notation, reflection and yes, celebration.

For the last year, we've had ridiculous mornings that involved all of us waiting outside for Leo's bus, then hurriedly packing into the van to dash to Lucy's school, then racing home to (on a good day) meet Harry's bus (on a bad day, Harry would be late to school because I'd have to drive him AFTER I dropped Ellie off). On a good day, Ellie and I would have a "leisurely" ten minutes to get ready to drive down the street to her school, where I would drop her off (no walking big girls down to the black top necessary).

The twins have adjusted unbelievably well to full-day kindergarten, which in my mind, speaks to how ready they were for it. In the mornings, Lucy, perhaps the world's Most Social Person Ever (she did not get it from me, I assure you) leaps from the car and bounds down the hill toward her little row of squirmy friends as though she's just been informed they'll be taking a field trip to the Magic Kingdom. Nope, just kindergarten. She's FINE with that. The other day I casually hung her (and Harry's class picture) up in her bedroom. Well. There went a good thirty minutes after she discovered this little gem. "I can't believe there's a picture of ALL my friends! MOMMY? Do you want to hear me say all their names?"




Harry is less forthcoming with details of his day though it's clear by the way he greets his little posse of buddies (full body hugs, let's just say) that he's also bonded. He is quick to tell me who sat out at recess and who got a "red square" (for bad behavior). They are learning Spanish: "Uno, dos, tres, tacos cincos, seis." They are both starting to write more, asking how to spell words and copying letters independently to make up their own words. I had forgotten how magical it is to watch young children learn to read, as their little worlds burst wide open.

And Ellie in fourth grade, Leo in seventh. It's exciting and terrifying. Yes, the little ones still make me nuts (though with less frequency) and yet I want to stop time because I know this is the Last Time they'll go to the kindergarten pumpkin patch and the last time they will experience elementary school for the first time ("MOMMY! I got to walk to the office and be a messenger! With Devon as my partner!!") and their enthusiasm is adorable and heartwarming. And yes, even when they follow me into the bathroom ("It's because I LIKE you!" Harry explains) I remind myself they're not always going to like me this much. Also. I love having big kids. With election season, it's been such fun talking politics. Ellie begs to stay up late to watch the debates and of course falls asleep next to me on the couch, but still.


Lucy's depiction of Donald Trump: "He's crying because he lost the election."


Halloween has come and gone--in our house it actually begins around late August ("MOMMY? Can we put up the Halloween decorations?" is literally a daily question). This year we had a cowgirl, a last minute Spiderman (I really thought he'd be Batman for a third year in a row but no such luck) and of course, Elphaba, from "Wicked." And for the second year in a row, Ellie trick or treated with friends instead of us. How quickly they become "too cool?" Perhaps, but in this case I really think it's more practical reasons that has her looking elsewhere for trick or treating options: Let's face it. We aren't the fastest candy fetching crew. Five year olds get tired quickly AND they're afraid of the dark. You do the math.


One of my favorite pictures of Halloween night. Darkness fell. The whining began. Too dark. Too cold. I'm tired. Uppy! One wanted to go one way, one wanted to go another. If this picture doesn't sum up the experience of parenting twins, I don't know what does.

Last Days of Disco

I registered the "babies" for kindergarten a few weeks ago.

I don't call them "babies" anymore of course, but that's what they will always be, technically.

The enormity of impending kindergarten is not lost on me.

It's been a looooong two years. It's been wonderful and maddening and exhausting and frustrating and ridiculous and hilarious and stressful and a gift.



When I lost my job just over two years ago, my life changed overnight. Never in a million years did I imagine myself as a "stay at home" mom (and I don't consider that I ever have been since I was fortunate enough to fairly effortlessly segue into steady, part-time freelance work at home). But there is no question that in the last two years I have been "home" much more than I ever was with any of my children. And I don't think I've made any secret of the fact that it hasn't been easy. Of course it hasn't been.



I feel like it's all been leading up to this--the "this" being kindergarten, aka, a full day to complete my work (imagine!) and all the other endless tasks that go along with a house of six that includes four young children. Right now, I bookend the bulk of my work in about three hours in the morning (the amount of time I have once I get all the various children to all of their various places before it's time to pick the twins up from school) and at night after they all go to bed. There's a babysitter in there when work gets particularly overwhelming. I also answer work emails and phone calls and address inquiries throughout the day. And yes, I am basically a crazy person because of this.

I despise being rushed. I abhor doing things "halfway." I detest leaving dishes in the sink and crumbs on the counter and Lego bricks on the carpet in front of the coffee table (OUCH) and laundry unfolded in a basket, but this is what I have learned to live with in the last few years. I pick my battles, I look the other way and I have learned the hell out of prioritizing, compartmentalizing and yes, time management.

I HATE losing my temper and running out of patience but I am human and I have done just this, more times than I am proud of. Because, helloooo, stress.



The days have been long, for sure. Going into this whole "working from home" gig, I knew this was IT. Once they start school? You lose a tiny bit of them that you just never get back. I know this because of Leo and Ellie. These last two years I've done my best to pack the twins' days while also getting my work done. Before they started school in those dark, snowy months right after my full-time job ended, we made the rounds at library story times and used afternoon grocery trips as a way to stay busy get out of the house. Then in September of 2014 both twins were in school five mornings a week, and I got a taste of what life COULD be like when I had the time and space that I had once known. It was a tease of the future, of a life with "big kids."



Once we were no longer slaves to the afternoon nap (at age three, when Lucy put an end to THAT nonsense (groan), the twins started the requisite afternoon classes--gymnastics and swimming at the local community center, two days a week. And sometimes (OK, often), trying to slide dry clothes onto wiggly, still-damp bodies that won't stand still long enough to get properly dried off is about the LAST thing I feel like doing, but I tell myself, SELF? This is it. This is what you do. Because there will never be 1pm swimming classes again, ever. And sometimes we even stop for ice cream on the way home, because that's what you do too.



And now, officially registered for kindergarten and on the precipice of full-day school for ALL four (three at the SAME school? What the what?), it just feels...big.



We sold this bad boy a few weeks ago. Of course we hadn't used it in a while but still...I haven't been without a stroller in my house for...eleven years. It's the end of an era, to be sure.

I've said this before and I'll say it again, as hard as things can feel sometimes, I do my very best not to wish time away. Some mornings when I'm getting breakfast on the table (three different drinks for four kids) and packing lunches and snacks into backpacks and someone is playing a keyboard and another person turns on "Knuffle Bunny" on the CD player at full volume, the very hairs on the back of my neck stand up because it is SO EFFING LOUD and it feels like the walls of the house are going to close in on me.

But then Leo's bus pulls up and he gets on and is off to middle school. And then the rest of us load into the van and sing "Cheerleader" on the way to Lucy's school. And then we get home and Harry's bus is waiting for him. And then it's just Ellie and me. And then she's skipping down the hill to the blacktop where the third, fourth and fifth graders line up.



And then, it's just me. And it's quiet. And sometimes it just feels altogether unfamiliar.

Goodbye Kindergarten

Leo "graduated" from kindergarten on Friday.


Didn't he just graduate from pre-K? Why yes he did! Last year in fact.
It's amazing a whole year has gone by. I remember how nervous I was to let Leo go to the big scary new school. But there's no question in my mind it was the right decision. He's such a big boy. It was such a thrill to see him up on stage on Friday with all the other kids, just being himself, doing his thing. He's matured so much.

Here he is singing a song guaranteed to make any mommy cry: "When I grow up." Sorry about the um, camerawork. I knew there was a reason I didn't go into documentary film making. Toward the end of this clip, each child shares what they wish to be. You can sort of tell that Leo is reading his off a cue-card which his teacher is holding up.* I thought this was so smart of her to do and I was so proud of how he participated.

After the ceremony, we all joined Leo in his classroom for a party. Ellie was very excited to be at the ceremony and Leo was beyond thrilled to show off his little sister.

And of course, no party is complete without cake.

*In case you missed it, Leo wants to be a firefighter when he grows up. Good to know!

A Night Without Leo That Was All About Leo

You know you’re a grown-up when you’re introduced as Mrs. (your last name here) to a principal.

I’m the mom of a kindergartner, a five-year-old, an actual kid, and yet, I still can’t quite wrap my brain around the fact that I’m a grown-up. Someone’s mom.

But enough about me. Last night was Leo’s night to shine, even though he wasn’t even there. It was the open house of his new school. There are five kids in the class (he attends “specials”—music, art, P.E., library) and eats lunch/goes to recess with the general ed kindergarten.

Two other parents came, so not a terrible showing. I always think of my mom during school open houses. A veteran, resigned, sometimes cranky but also deeply committed elementary school teacher, she groused annually about the inevitably horrific attendance at open house night, to say nothing of the parent that once showed up drunk. (True story.)

As far as I could tell there were no drunk parents last night.

For starters, I love Leo’s teacher. What’s not to love about a woman who signs her notes home to the parents “Educationally yours?” She is energetic and enthusiastic and patient and creative and not to get all Disney movie but when she talks about the kids, she seriously gets a twinkle in her eye.

As she spoke about the daily schedule I let my eyes wander around the classroom. It’s cluttered but organized. Kitschy autumn wreaths and scarecrows straight from Michael’s adorned one bulletin board; a table in the corner featured “everything about apples.” They’re doing a unit on apples, so there was apple sauce, dried apple snacks and of course, apples.

And everything in the room is labeled. A woman who enjoys a label maker as much as I do is a woman I can stand behind. We were able to sit at Leo’s little desk and look through his folders and notebooks. The older he gets, the easier it is to comprehend him having a life apart from us (at school for now, in many years, who knows where?). In second grade, Leo will start learning Spanish, as well as begin learning the recorder, in preparation for an instrument of his choice.

Leo is the youngest in the class by far, and being the “new kid” there was plenty of talk about him. He was pronounced “popular” by both the teacher and the aide (what can I say? Music to a parent’s ear) and every teacher/therapist/school official I was introduced to immediately exclaimed “Oh! Your Leo’s mom! (in a good way) when they learned who I was. He does have a certain presence, a way of making himself known by all.

Erin and I surreptitiously skipped out on the PTA meeting that followed the classroom presentations (I haven’t decided if I want to get involved this year but I’ll certainly write the checks for whatever they need).

We used the babysitter as an excuse to extend the evening into cheap, bad Chinese food, eaten under disturbingly bright fluorescent lights. It was the first time Erin and I had eaten a meal out (such as it was), without the kids, in months. We tried our best not to talk about either of the kids too much, but of course, Leo kept coming up. I think we were both on a little high.

Our boy is doing well. He’s happy. He works hard and people like him. Tomorrow that could all change. But last night, over Szechuan tofu and shrimp lo mein, that was all I needed to know.