Yesterday was Audra’s first day of first grade.
In case I might have forgotten this fact, I was reminded when she ran into our bedroom at exactly 7:00am wearing her brand new school outfit and carrying her backpack, all ready to go.
Only an hour and 45 minutes till the bus comes.
Just so you know, she came in at 7:00 because we had absolutely forbidden her to come in any earlier.
Last year, it was so emotional watching her get on the bus for kindergarten. Sarah and I were nervous, Audra was excited (and maybe a little nervous). Would she like it? Would her teacher be nice? Would the other kids on the bus shove over and let her have a seat? Would she be able to cut the school lunch mystery meat herself using a plastic fork?
This year, however, whatever concerns there might have been, resided in me alone.
For Audra, this was old hat. She was going off to school a big first grader.
In fact, I think the hardest part for me was watching how much it wasn’t a big deal. Sure, the first day of school was exciting, but for Audra it was nothing. Just a few weeks of vacation and now she was back in the saddle. She already knew all the tricks, all the rules, all the ways of the school.
She was an old pro at this by now.
No, I think I was probably a lot more nervous and worried than Audra was. Although, none of us seems to have taken her heading off to school nearly as badly as poor Asher.
I think little Asher had gotten used to having his big sister home all the time. He’s four now and somehow the differences between a 4 year old and an almost seven year old aren’t as big as those between 3 and 6 year olds.
The kids played all summer and for the most part they played really well together. It was usually some kind of bizarre combination of Batman and the Princess Pony off to rescue the Magical Stone of Happiness from Dr. Octopus or some such mish mash, but still, they did it together.
Yesterday morning, Asher was lying on the floor crying because Audra was going back to school.
It was heartbreaking.
To be fair, later that afternoon, he was lying on the floor crying because we were out of Honey Nut Cheerios.
I don’t know what’s up with that kid.
But somehow we all made it through the day, and seven and a half hours later, Audra hopped off the bus, all full of stories from her day.
Her teacher was nice and pretty and she was a big kid now because they got to sit in the same desks that the fifth graders used and not tables anymore and they had two books - a hard book and a soft book and Maddie and Mia were in her class and there were lots of important papers I had to look at right now and she needs something to eat right now, because lunch was a long time ago and…..
So we came inside and sat and ate homemade cookies that I had just taken from the oven and….
Ok, that’s not true.
That’s what I wish had happened, but in actuality is only a fantasy.
In reality, I was sitting on the floor surrounded by every single article of clothing that we owned as I attempted to fold it all. So instead of sharing fresh baked cookies over the immaculately clean table, I pushed a tub of hummus and pita chips over to Audra and kept folding.
It’s not particularly Norman Rockwell, but neither is our life.
After the laundry, I started looking through the packet of papers from the school which included forms to be filled out, registration packets for the PTA a list of suggested donation amounts we could make to the PTA, an emergency contact form, a 10 page list of jobs we could volunteer to do at the school, a letter about the swine flu, health insurance forms, school lunch forms, a newsletter from the cafeteria about healthy eating and a second copy of the school materials list which included the information that we needed to send in a check for $3.50 for notebooks and that in the coming weeks we would be told to send in more money for “agenda books, math journals, quick word books, and scholastic news.” This last bit was accompanied by a clip art of a happy face with dollar signs for eyes. (I swear I’m not making that up)
(Honest to Pete, does this school have any supplies at all? Would they like me to send in a bag of mulch and a colander as well?)
And so, there it was, the first day of school was over. And it hardly even seemed like a big deal. My little girl was back in her groove – catching the bus in the morning, seeing her friends, learning, playing, reading, riding home and walking into the house all by herself.
In some ways, this is all easy, because Audra is just made for school. She’s confident, independent, smart, has a healthy ego and is desperate to please – all qualities that make her a great student. I have no concerns about her going to school and succeeding. Every aspect of her personality is designed for being a perfect student.
That night at dinner she was telling us all about her class.
Yes, her teacher is nice.
Yes, she has lots of friends in her class.
No, her best friend isn’t in her class, but that’s ok.
She thinks that she and Maddie are probably the cutest kids in the in the class.
Everyone says that she’s the smallest kid in the class, even though some of the kids are only 5 and there’s this one kid who she’s pretty sure is smaller than her but everyone just says that she’s the smallest anyway.
She says this all with an air of resignation. It’s hard being the smallest. Her other classmates like to pick her up. I suppose there is some consolation in being the cutest, though.
And after dinner, it’s up to bed. Tomorrow’s another busy day with more to learn and more to do. The days can’t come fast enough for Audra. She’s always eager for the next level, for the next challenge. She can’t wait for homework and spelling tests and to do some real math. She’s tired of this counting piles of plastic bears crap. Bring on the flash cards.
No, Audra can’t wait to grow up. If she had her way, I think she would skip right to high school so she could take IB classes, be on the prom decorating community and start dating Zac Efron.
But for now, she’s still in first grade - the tiny, cute kid who loves school and can’t wait to go each morning.
I know she wants to grow up and do more and bigger things, but right now, I’m still adjusting to her no longer being a kindergartener… and there are even moments when I feel like joining Asher on the floor and crying.
But instead, I’ll just squeeze back any tears so I can do what I need to do - get hair brushed, cereal on the table and the boys up and dressed.
It’s another day and we have to go catch that bus.