One Granola Bar Wrapper Away from Insanity

In my job, there are a lot of “first days”. There’s the first teacher day. Then the first day with students k-9. Then the first day with everyone all in the building at once. This makes the beginning of the school year a little anti-climatic, and Justin likes to ask me, “Which kind of ‘first day’ is it today?” I always respond that it is the kind of first day which requires a glass of wine at the end.

 

I managed to annoy my husband before I even got out of bed this morning, which is not an undoable feat, but an unusual one. Apparently, one cannot be tired after a long weekend and reset her alarm four times in the early hours of the morning. Whatever. I’m up now, aren’t I?

 

Today, we actually got into the full swing of things. You guys know I like to over-achieve, so not only did we have a real first day with all hands on deck, but also I signed the kids up for swim lessons. Because I’m very good at self-harm, I made sure that lesson gave me .04 seconds to leave after school ended to pick up both kids and get to the pool on time. I couldn’t even think about that until I got through the rest of the day though.

 

I must have told Harrison to put on his shoes seventeen times. Here’s a fun fact: It helps to put your shoes away where they belong in order to find them the following morning! But what do I know? We found shoes for the feet after some painful dawdling around the hallway. In the meantime, I was looking for his bathing suit for the aforementioned swim lessons. Why, people, can we not put bathing suits or shoes where they belong? Justin, in an incredibly casual manner and pace happened to remember that Harrison’s bathing suit was in the boat. He brought me the garment once he located it, proud as a peacock. The suit was, of course drenched in rainwater, and here I am the bad guy for asking what in GOD’S NAME can I do with a soaking wet bathing suit.

 

Somewhere between the time I was begging Ella to brush her teeth and the time I asked Harrison for the eighteenth time to put on his shoes, Justin used my hair dryer to dry the suit. Everything was nice and dry and warm until we got to daycare where I promptly spilled my coffee all over the passenger side of my (new) car while looking for my checkbook. Sorry, daycare, I’ll pay you tomorrow when my bag and checkbook dry out.

 

The work day went pretty smooth, because obviously my teaching skills are on point. Just kidding. I had three girls refuse to set up their binders in class and I may or may not have forgotten to eat breakfast.

 

Since I made it out of there unscathed for the most part, I was looking forward to swim lessons. My kids LOVE to swim, so I knew this was going to be a fantastic event. For those of you just joining us in the life of Katie, obviously Ella decided she hated water and looked at the swim instructor like he was going to abduct her. She added blood curdling screams throughout the 40 minute lesson for sound effects, and everyone at the YMCA now knows that Ella does not want to learn to swim. Fine kid. Good luck finding adult sized puddle jumpers.


When we got home, I was delighted to find homework in Harrison’s backpack. It’s my favorite kind. The family kind. You know, where we all get together and decorate a piece of paper? And the best part is that I just told my class just today that I learned to hate homework only when my own child started school. Karma, you’re silly. But, we’ll do it folks. That apple is going to have the sh*t decorated out of it.

 

And why wouldn’t Justin have a work dinner to attend tonight? So here I am flying solo, looking at a granola bar wrapper that I SWEAR I told Harrison to throw away. He’s left it on the bar stool to remind me of the good times of today, I think. It’s ok though. I’m going to go to bed early, unless of course, Ella decides to start crying again about our dead cat whom she cannot possibly remember as he died before she was born.

 

Fellow parents, I wish you well in these first few weeks back to school. Be it swim lessons, kindergarten homework, or remnants of bygone snacks, we stand together in solidarity.

Author: livefromtimeout

I am a stay at home mom of two vivacious toddlers, ages one and three. When I'm not refereeing, I like to workout and drink wine. But not at the same time.

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