September 2nd – So my kids started school last week.  I swore that “back to school” would be different this year…we wouldn’t be rushed…I wouldn’t be stressed…Brad wouldn’t be crabby…I would make a healthy and hot breakfast…my children would look well-groomed and pulled together…and one of my children wouldn’t need to take an 18-minute poop right before we needed to walk out the door.  Well, I made scrambled eggs and that was about it.  NOTE:  I make great scrambled eggs…


I wasn’t sad when my kids left for school.  I didn’t weep or even tear up.  I didn’t flop down on the couch in quiet reflection of what this year might bring.  I didn’t pull out picture albums of my kids and run my fingers over photos of their sweet little faces (as I don’t have picture albums of my kids). 


Instead I hustled out the door and went to school with my kids to serve as a greeter for parents who are dropping off their kindergarteners at “big kid” school for the first time ever.  And that’s when I cried, if you can believe it.  I teared up with some mom I didn’t know from Adam (or Eve) as she watched her little guy walk down this interminably long hallway into his classroom.  Then, I walked in a new kid and his mom who had moved here from California…yesterday.  And I swear I wiped a tear.  I mean, come on – this is hard for a kid (and for me!)  New house, new school and new teacher – all in 48 hours? I needed to fall out on my therapists’ couch just to process it all.  I became melancholy and reflective – over other people’s children. 


But that’s always the way, isn’t it?


I mean, I’m about to fall apart that my niece (aka The Third Child I Never Had) will start kindergarten. I’ve had to restrain myself to keep from showing up at HER school to walk her to her new classroom.  That’s a task I must leave to my brother and his wife, but I’ll be there in sniffly spirit, I suppose.