When I fell pregnant with 3of3, my last middle child was half-way through pre-K. I was researching schools I'd like to attend, thinking about what I was going to do with the last little bit of my *gulp* twenties, laying plans for the rest of my life. 

I remember walking him up to his first day of kindergarten, eight months pregnant with a future Teller alum, and thinking it was a good thing I loved that school so much, because I was going to be spending the next motherfucking decade of my life there. 

The day that wiggly belly would be almost six, wearing a backpack, reading and writing and being gone for hours a day every day seemed unfathomably far into the future. Except it wasn't at all. Except is was just like *that* and I can't believe it happened so fast. 

Oi vey!

I can't believe that I forgot the air-speed velocity of an unladen child, how fast it goes, they go. This thing, this life I was biding my time, waiting to start living, happened all around me when i wasn't looking and now here I am in that same spot I was forever ago, with my last one off in pursuit of her own self, but this time, I know exactly what I want when I grow up.

Mostly it's to be bold and fearless, just like them.

There's more on this at Cucumbersome today. Oh, I should probably mention I have this other blog, and it's called Cucumbersome, and it's part of the Babble Voices group. I hope it doesn't suck. 

Back to School

Tonight, she is a school night.  See Mr Lady do a little happy dance of joy.  Dance, Mr Lady, dance.

We did absolutely nothing that we'd planned to do this summer.  We'd hoped to take a family vacation, and I totally screwed that up with my trip to San Francisco for BlogHer and my trip to Denver for the DNC.  We'd talked about spending a day at the PNE (like Six Flags, without the awesome) and that just never happened.  We'd aimed for spending so much time at the pool that we'd all be golden brown (or fire hydrant red, depending) and, well, it never actually was summer here.  The pool isn't nearly as fun in 60 degree weather.

Still, we had a really fabulous summer.  We had minimum of one broken bone (we're still waiting on x-ray results about a possible #2; see, black eye that appears to be a fractured eye socket.)  We had two gnarly, deep, wide cuts that got totally infected and required bottle after bottle of peroxide.  We had one slipped disc that just kept right on slipping thanks to a dad that refuses to realize that at 35, maybe skateboarding and doing back flips off swings isn't the hottest idea anymore (except that yeah, one of us still thinks it's totally hot, icyhot and all.)  We intended to plant a vegetable and/or herb garden in the back yard.  I'll just giggle about that for a second and move on.

We did manage to turn a 3 bedroom house into a four bedroom house, making one 10 year old instantly become one 14 year old, and one 8 year old become an overnight neat freak.  We got one 2 year old into a big girl bed, only to realize that we've failed in almost every way raising her and until we do our job better, she'll still need to be barred in and locked down every night.  We created three night owls, who cannot sleep before 11pm, and refuse to wake up before 10 am.

We have bought exactly ZERO new shoes, new pants, new shirts, new pencils, new notebooks, new protractors.  We could not be more unprepared for back-to-school if we tried.  We did get haircuts, and really?  We could have made 15 full, luscious wigs from the hair we hacked off in one day.  We Mr Lady people, we have hair for miles and miles.  The 10 year old got his first haircut that he orchestrated completely on his own.  Turns out, my kid really likes looking like Beatles.  The Walrus beatles, not the Insect beatles.

We found last years' lunch boxes, and found last years' ravioli, still in them.  Add New Thermos to the shopping list.  We managed, with a lot of vinegar and a little bit of love, to get the dead crab smell out of last years' backpacks.  Add Febreze to the shopping list.  We found last years' winter clothes, and learned that two boys can grow quite nicely over 3 months on a diet consisting solely of Pop Tarts and Kraft Dinner.  Add a totally motherfucking new wardrobe times two to the shopping list.

We also discovered yesterday that my neighbor, arguably my best friend up here in Canuckistan, will be taking over for 2of3's teacher last year as Head Teacher at our school (like a Vice Principal without the pay) and this is really fabulous because A) I love her B) my kids love her, and there's a good chance she will have one  of them in her class and C) as Head Teacher, she has to attended every PTA meeting, so I'll totally have a buddy there.  Except, wait, that sucks ass because I was totally intent on quitting that stupid PTA and now I'm all roped in by my best friend neighbor who is all "Dude, don't leave me hanging all by myself in there, yo!"

Fuck.  Me.

So, tonight I will be frantically washing and stretching out one outfit per kid so they can look like their parents give half a shit tomorrow for their first day.  I will be digging through the piles of school crap that came home last June and were promptly shoved into the back of a closet, praying to every god I can think of that there are a few pencils and two notepads that are less than half-way full of Pokemon doodles.  I will be drugging my children at 8:30 with something that will make them sleep at a decent hour.  I will be flossing their teeth for the first time in three months just like I do every night, because I am a good mom.  I will set the pomade out on the bathroom counter and plug in the blowdrier for Mr My Hair Must Look Perfect For School, and I am totally going to cry at 8:55 am tomorrow, just like I have every year for 6 years straight now, as I send my frumpy, unprepared and very excited boys off to the wide world of 5th and 3rd grade.

My baby boy, my first born, is in FIFTH grade.  Oh, god, I'm going to die now.