whirlwind

Day One of Second Grade was last Tuesday, and all things considered I think it was a success. I mean, from my perspective. Sure, Frances was full of excitement, curiosity, and at least a little dread - it was her first day of school after all - but it was also my first day of school. The day that ushers in a long season of lunch-making, schedule-adhering, and calendar-loading with school events, activities, and child care back bends. So is it any wonder that I approach September with at least a little trepidation myself?  

The truth is that though the job falls to me, I am at best a mediocre Family Manager. I put everything into iCalendar, then write out the important things I absolutely cannot forget in dry erase marker on the white board in the kitchen. Yet still I woke at 5 am most mornings this week, my head abuzz with the day's happenings. (And I still manage to arrive five minutes late to nearly everything on the calendar).

These first couple of weeks are the hardest, don't you think? Everything begins at once. Tonight was the kickoff event for the terrific nonprofit I work with, at which most of the Hispanic families I support showed up and made me feel so very privileged and proud. The rest of 'everything' for us included Gabriel's first day of preschool, for which he was nervous,

 

excited, and happy. Today was his third day, after which he reported on a nature walk that featured spider webs sparkling with rain drops and a blow out party with a huge parachute. I think he's doing just fine.

Also Frances's first gymnastics class (thankfully she got a ride there with a friend who is also taking the class, so that I could get to my event), a job interview and related supervisor-pinning-down process for me, the creation of the 2012 parent schedule for our cooperative preschool class, endless school-related forms and supplies to send in, and Gabriel's first soccer practice.

It was a rush job to get there, and I was hot and sweaty and suffering the latest pregnancy symptom (if you must know - and you must, right? - it's bizarre itchy skin, one of  the little indignities that no one tells you about, you just discover along the way). Let us just say I was doubting the wisdom of another commitment on the calendar every Wednesday from 5 - 6 pm.

But oh! Seeing my boy out there, looking simultaneously midget-like (emphasized by mingling in a crowd of four year olds wearing oversized tee-shirts) and very big and capable, relishing his big kicks and runs for the ball...? It was, in fact, a great idea. He is a real soccer player now.

That does not, however, make me a real soccer mom. I'm just the hot, itchy lady sitting in the grass with a heart full of gratitude and tenderness.