For the past two days, I stopped reading op-eds and blog posts on Katrina. Not because I was starting to become a creepy, obsessed blogger. I am quite happy being a creepy, obsessed blogger. No, I had to stop because I had to get the kids ready for school.
No talk about Katrina this afternoon (except do read this one post by Andrew Sullivan). Just kid stuff below the fold.
The first day of school is a big thing for kids, and you have to set up these rituals very carefully with stiff jeans and plastic pencil cases.
Yesterday, the boys and I had a Back to School Day. We went to Staples with a long list of supplies that the school said must be in Jonah's backpack on the first day. Scissors. Pencils. Folders. Jonah got a haircut. Medical forms were dropped off with the pediatrician. Pizza and Italian ice in town. And then new sneakers at Payless. (I have always been disturbed that Payless is one word and not Pay Less. Doesn't "payless" mean you don't have to pay at all?)
The kids can be unwashed slobs for the rest of the year, but the first day must be pristine and smell of office supplies.
After taking pictures on the porch, we met the other children waiting for the bus at the corner. Some of the dads had camcorders to record the event. Jonah suddenly got a little nervous. He held my hand and told me that he loved me. A kiss and he was off. Ian watched the bus drive down Broadway, suddenly screamed that his beloved brother was leaving him, and started chasing the bus. Two of the moms started crying.
Ian was reassured with a cup of juice and then plopped in his car seat. He had to start his special ed pre-school today. When we pulled up to his school, he jumped out of the car and ran towards the school. "Excited boy. Excited boy," he said as he ran with jiggling cheeks. Two other kids were being forcibly removed from their mothers' arms. Ian didn't look behind him. He was ready.
On the way home, I picked up champagne and bagels. I had five neighborhood mothers over for mimosas and brunch. It was part celebration and part pity party. Bill from next door stuck his face in the window and said, "Hey, Desperate Housewives, stay away from the gardeners."
Another milestone family day where we turned entirely inward and neglected other pressures and demands of the world. It's over. Time to return to work. When the buzz wears off.
