Today is one for the books. I may be the only sober woman in the history of the world to sleep through her alarm on her First Grader's first day of class. In fact, the only reason I woke up when I did is because a pajama-clad five-year-old stood in my bedroom door and called out, "Mommy, I thought you said we were getting up early today!"
Yes, son, I sure did. The plan was not to have 15 minutes in which to dress, make a lunch, pack a backpack, and eat breakfast. For those of you who hate suspense, I will end your angst by telling you that we did arrive--fed and dressed--to class only two minutes late, just in time for G to grab a quick hug and find his place in line before the kids went inside.
This was obviously not how I pictured the first day of sending my child to school. Let me tell you how it happened.
It all started two years ago when my mom died. I'm not being dramatic here; Mom's death, and the following death of my mother-in-law, created pockets of time during which I become mentally and physically overwhelmed with grief. The last week or so has been tough as we begin to anticipate the fall trial for my MIL, but Saturday and Sunday were brutal. By "brutal" I mean lots of crying, wakeful nights, sad dreams when I sleep, anger at being abandoned by my moms, and a dread of anyone asking "How are you?"
So last night I went to bed early, knowing the alarm would go off sooner than I wanted it to. This would give the kids and me plenty of time to make a healthy breakfast, dress with care, and arrive at school a respectable ten minutes early. Maybe I could even snap a couple adorable pictures of G in his backpack. The plan was all well and good, but my early bedtime didn't prevent hours of lying awake in the dark with gnawing heartache. Trying to fight, I listened to comforting music, prayed, listened to chapters of Psalms, fluffed my pillows, and kept my eyes squeezed closed.
At 5 a.m., feeling sleepy at last, I checked the volume on my iPod to make sure it was good and loud so I'd hear the alarm at 6:45. This has always worked. Until today of course.
The good news is, I didn't have any time to feel sorry for myself as I launched out of bed at 7:30 and threw clothes at the boys. (As it turns out, I didn't have time to check my hair in the mirror, either. Hopefully the first grade teacher didn't pay too much attention to me.) I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry hysterically while slamming together G's sandwich and repeatedly asking a small naked child to forget about matching socks and put on a shirt and pants, but there wasn't really time to have an emotional breakdown. There also wasn't time to make oatmeal, which was the only breakfast we had in the cupboards.
Throwing the dice that traffic would be smooth and the McDonald's drive-thru would be speedy, I announced to the kids that we were having a special breakfast treat on this first day of school, and the three of us ran out the door: One adult wearing bed hair and no make-up, one boy wearing one small white sock and one long red sock, and one very grown-up boy beaming with a full backpack and a semi-matching outfit.
Mickey D's was not the quickest it could have been, but it could have been worse. The boys were thrilled with their $1 sausage muffins, at least! I did have a moment of panic when the on-ramp was backed up, but it cleared up sooner rather than later, and as I said earlier we made it to school more-or-less on time.
What I would now like to do more than anything else is call my mom on the phone and tell her about G's first day of school. But at this point, all I really feel like saying is, "Gee, thanks Mom for not being here and making me so sad that I can't even enjoy a normal thing like driving my kid to school on his first day. Thanks a lot."
I realize it's not Mom's fault for not being here, but since she's not around to defend herself or feel stung, I'm not worrying too much about it. And eventually the anger will pass, as will this wonky day. G can take as much time as he wants on the drive home to tell me all about class, and we can always have oatmeal for breakfast tomorrow.
***UPDATE***
I checked my iPod this afternoon and discovered that my alarm had never been set. I distinctly remember walking over to it last night in order to set it, but in my haze I apparently got distracted. At least I know the volume button isn't to blame!
*sigh*
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