first official day of the school year

5 am: wake to toddler who insists on cluster nursing through the night. must night-wean asap.

6 am: wake to first-grader who squeals, "I'm going to first grade today!!!"

6:45 am: feed girls breakfast- wheat chex, organic milk, grapes, chunks of cheddar cheese. hopefully the breakfast of champions.

7 am: watch girls shout "goodbye, daddy!" and cover him with kisses as he leaves for work.

7:04 am: corral girls into tub, scrub them until shiny.

8 am: dress girls, give Madeline, "teeny, tiny, thin braids" on either sides of her temple. assure her for the 100th time that yes, I will be at the bus stop this afternoon to get her; in fact, I will even be there early. PROMISE. double check that lunch, snack, and water bottle are in her backpack.

8:20 am: usher girls outside and snap 30 pictures of them in virtually the same pose, just to make sure the perfect shot is achieved.

8:55 am: put lovely firstborn daughter on bus, but not before hugging her tight, and assuring her that the day will go well. sigh.

8:56 am: walk to playground with lovely second born daughter, and give her some one-on-one time.

9:20 am: off to grocery shop. with just one child, it feels empty. turn the shopping into a lesson... "How many cantaloupes are we buying? What color is the pepper?" notice grandpa-like man smiling at said questions, and pat self on back for sneaking in a little learning.

10 am: arrive at playdate. spend next two hours giggling while watching two curly-haired girls negotiate being two, as they share popcorn and raw broccoli. enjoy company of down-to-earth friend and her new baby boy.

noon: little one's naptime. relish in the cuddling of little one as she drifts off to sleep.

12:30-2:20 pm: prep dinner, unpack groceries, and straight up house. didn't I just clean it last night?

2:30 pm: a late lunch for little one, followed by puzzles and playing with wooden letters. loving her little voice and tiny fingers as she fits together puzzle pieces and shouts proudly, "I did it!!"

3:20 pm: husband appears, home from work. play an educational game online with little one, and off to get big sister off the bus.

4 pm: (well, 4:29, as the bus is 29 minutes late, but who's counting?) big sister arrives, all hugs, smiles, and, "I can't wait to go back tomorrow! I made so many new friends and I love my teacher!" WHEW. play outside w/neighborhood kids; usher own kids inside for dinner.

5 pm: dinner.

5:48 pm: scrub off the floor: an entire plate of sticky watermelon juice, a large cup of water, and whatever other pieces of dinner that were not eaten by my eats-like-a-bird little daughter.

6 pm: upstairs for bedtime routine. pajamas, teeth, and books, in that order. meanwhile, husband's cast of four adults begin to arrive, and they head outside to rehearse a fairly-loud play in the backyard. neighbors must wonder about us.

7 pm: strong arm girls into bed. of course, not before they gleefully shout, "goodnight Daddy! we love you!!" out their bedroom window, supplying chuckles to Daddy and his cast. as usual, girls then stall bedtime, asking to go, "bedtime pee-pee," begging for another sip of water, and urgently revealing "secrets" which they forgot to share during the day. as always, I indulge them, secretly knowing that the reason I put them into bed at 7 is b/c I know they won't be done with this dance until 7:30.

7:40 pm: it it silent upstairs. re-neaten the house (didn't I just do this a few hours ago?). wash lunchboxes and water bottles, repack fresh lunches for tomorrow, and feeling generous, even pack one for hubby. marvel at my creativity to include every food group (and wonder how long I can keep up enthusiasm for the task). wash pots and pans, reload dishwasher, and put everything into place. consult compiled list of meals, and decide on dinner for tomorrow.

9 pm: steal a few minutes online before heading back upstairs to fill out gigantic pile of "homework" that teacher sent home for parents to complete. emergency contact info and family history. fun fun. and so the day comes to a close. I think I'm gonna need a cape. as will every other mother of a school-aged child this year. happy school year to all.