I was in the process of drafting a sentimental post about the first day of school being a new beginning, a whole new world of possibilities, blah, blah, blah. Instead, reality hit today, and it hit hard. My first feat on this first day of school was getting three children five and under out the door, fully dressed, fed, and properly groomed. Anxious to make a good first impression, I fretted over Kate's decision to wear the strappy neon blue sundress that, if she so much as breathes, out pops a nipple (am I allowed to say that?). Paired with that lovely outfit are her purple Crocs, or should I say Croc in the singular form. The child has a knack for widowing shoes, losing one and leaving the other behind to grieve the loss of its partner. I considered bribing her to wear another pair but decided it would be easier to rip apart my already disorganized house in search of the Croc's missing mate. Turns out it was hiding in the dreaded bathroom.
Ah, the bathroom, where most of my battles are fought these days. Kate has a picture schedule of her morning routine to increase her independence and to stave off any battles that might ensue. And on that schedule is a picture of a toilet to remind Kate to, that's right, use it. However, Kate enjoys just looking at the picture and prattling on about how big girls use the potty. All talk, no action. Each of my gentle reminders to sit on the potty was met with an increasingly louder, "No." Knowing that she has a bladder of steel and can hold it until the mid-morning trip to the bathroom at school, I decided to forgo any more arguing. Annie, on the other hand, will have an accident if she is not placed upon the toilet the minute her eyes open. Although she insisted, kicking and screaming, that she did not need to go, she did. Thankfully, a large puddle on the floor was averted.
Next came scarfing down breakfast, brushing teeth, and combing hair. For the most part, these activities were uneventful, except for a little screaming while brushing Kate's bedhead hair. We flew out the door and tucked ourselves neatly into the trusted minivan. Miraculously, we made it to school right on time. And so it goes, each weekday morning until June, a new school year, a new beginning.