Honestly, it wasn't that great.
I envisioned something out of Leave it to Beaver, like a moron. When will I learn?
I must admit, I envisioned it would be something out of Leave it to Beaver. Warm, with a cool breeze. Birds chirping, and me, a mother, holding the hands of her two children, as we walk gleefully to the first day of school.
Honestly, it wasn’t that great.
Poppy is in Kindergarten this year and I was excited to walk both my girls to school to what I assume will be a morning routine we’ll all come to cherish.
I mean, I guess. Probably not.
We started the morning fine, but then Lucy called to me in a hot panic because she hated the elastic band on her dress. Of course we tried on this dress. She pranced in this dress. She said, “Oh Mommy, I look so pretty!” in this dress. But today, the band is about the worst thing to ever happen to her. So I said, “Well darling, you can wear it and hope you forget all about the elastic band, or we can wear something else and I’ll return the dress.”
Yeah right. She threw herself on her bed like Scarlett O’Hara because she didn’t want to wear that stupid, elastic band suffocating nightmare of a reasonably priced cotton dress, but she sure as hell didn’t want it returned either!
Eventually I had to leave her be to get a bra on and soon it was was time to put on our new back to school shoes. Mind you, these are shoes we tried on and did multiple sprint drills in. This isn’t my first rodeo - kids get jacked for new things and put on the best performance of their lives to assure you it’s perfect. Turns out, Lucy’s foot now “slips” in the back, so I had to double knot them as if my life depended on it (and it did).
Now we were running late and I got the sweats. Hastily, I wrote on some printer paper so we could commemorate this special day with a picture that will stay on my phone for eternity because I’m paralyzed by all my digital pictures and then booked it for the 12 minute or so walk to school.
The walk seemed okay at first. We began playing “I spy with my little eye” when Poppy complained that not only was she too hot (it was about 75 degrees), but her leg hurt. She informed us she could no longer play due to the excruciating pain of walking up a moderately steep hill.
So, Lucy and I kept playing but then Poppy chimed in with an answer. This, of course, steamed Lucy who thought Poppy was out due to injury and then the two began fighting. I snapped at them real good and then got back to trying to find something yellow Lucy spied. Was it some dandelion ten houses ago? THERE ISN’T ANY YELLOW HERE LU.
Anyway, we arrived. Poppy, who had made this walk many times, had the body language of someone who just emerged from the Amazon Rainforest after getting lost in it for 10 years.
For one last hurrah, I had them get in front of the big “Welcome Back!” sign in front of the school where both of them yelled, “I can’t see, the sun is burning my retinas! Help! I’m blind! Mommy! Are you there? I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING WILL I EVER BE ABLE TO SEE AGAIN?”
Oh, forget it girls! Good grief!
Then Lucy stopped and begged me to retie her shoes “extra tight” - a sure sign these shoes will never be worn again after today. But I knotted them so tight before, I couldn’t get them untied and the bell was about to ring. I was sweating like I had 5 seconds to disarm a bomb.
Successful, but now completely burned out, I noticed the school had a big table of donuts for parents, left completely untouched. I wanted to stress eat at least two, but apparently we were all on diets and needed just one brave soul to break the seal. Nope, not one person stepped up. No one’s courageous enough to proudly eat a donut in public anymore? Figures! I took the girls by the hands and led them to their classrooms where I could barely say goodbye through the chaos, excitement, nerves and commotion. They nervously followed their classmates into their rooms while I yelled, “I love you!” behind them.
I walked home alone, thinking about them all the way.
Perfect moments are so rare. And I always try to force them, or recreate them, but it never works. In fact, the more I try to create a perfect moment, the more it goes down the crapper. Perfect moments are perfect for a reason - the stars aligned just right in an almost miraculous way - and we were taken aback by the unexpected joy.
But the vast majority of our moments are real life, with real people, with real opinions and agendas and annoying elastic bands, with slippy shoes and sore legs putting them in sour moods.
Yet, they aren’t so bad, are they? Imperfectly precious in their own way. And funny. Memorable, usually for all the wrong reasons. But memorable nonetheless.
I hope I don’t forget them.
Have we met? I’m Anna Lind Thomas, a humor writer out of Omaha, Nebraska. I’m listed as one of USA Today’s top ten funniest women writers, and author of the best selling book We’ll Laugh About This (Someday) and I’m Not Ready for This. Once you read them, text me (number’s in the back and I respond!) Say hi on Facebook and Instagram.