Kindergarten is no big deal

Lies.  It's a huge deal.

Mitchell's been in preschool for two years, the last year being at the big kid school where he now attends kindergarten so I anticipated myself not caring nearly as much as I ended up caring.  (I mean, right?!  We already freaked out about his classroom being across from 4th grade last year.  And now they have their own playground and hallway so it's 1000x easier to grasp.  Except it's not.)

Guys.  I'm the mom who takes a ton of pictures, and who holds back all the tears, and who lingers at the front door for way too long and who SIGNS UP FOR THE PTA.  (What is happening!?) I also checked the box for "room mother as needed" I have no idea what that actually means.  None of these things are characteristics of "Meagan" at all.

"Ali, what are we going to do when Mitchell is at school everyday?" says I, to my hilarious, always unexpected daughter.

"We're going to Paris!"

She doesn't know what Paris is. Does Sophie the First live there? That's the only thing I can think of.  And since Cinderella comes back to life via an heirloom necklace that the step-father gave his new step-daughter instead of his other daughter who acts like she needs more attention in general- I'm pretty sure it's just a made up land.

So after going to the local grocer during the first day of school, she now thinks Paris is the grocery store with the carts that look like cars.  You know, the really heavy, obnoxious ones that don't turn? This makes me 95% less likely to shop at your store, Maceys.

But anyway.

Mitchell went through the (probably) (hopefully?) normal cycling phases of: "I love school" "I hate school" "I'm terrified" "Ber Blah Ger Blah Gah!" *sobs* "I want to live with you forever!" (You still live here, dude, but homeschooling is *ahem* not ever going to happen unless there's an apocalypse.  And even then, you would never know biology or all the countries in Africa.  Or your 8 times tables.  Or how to pass the driving test. HA)

And then we met with his (darling) teacher who is straight out of college, full of energy and simply delightful.  I asked her what she needed for her classroom, "crayons or something?" (I remember the long lists of every supply down the art isle.  I was not disappointed that didn't exist, but not naive enough to think they didn't need *something*) "I think we have plenty of crayons and things like that.  I could use more hand sanitizer though" And that makes perfect sense.  I will get right on it.

So then she sends home a giant paper blank person.  Like a gingerbread man without any features.  Apparently, it is to be a family project to turn this into Mitchell.  Mitchell flies solo.  Drew blue eyes on with a marker and then a grey colored tie (or maybe a shirt design? No idea)  I sing the usual praise at his lack of procrastination at this project (his father is also very good at time management) and *start* to read the instructions that come with it (oil and water we are) and the instructions use words like "yarn" "glitter" "fabric" "cereal" "any fun things that represent your child" "parents, please, make sure you involve your child" (what is this nonsense?  It should obviously read, 'children, make sure you involve your parents.  or at least one.  or at least make it look like your parents care') and, "make sure to come see this hanging in the halls for the next. several. months"

GET THE YAAARN MITCHELL!

In a panicked state, while trying to make sure Mitchell knew his markers were indeed good enough, while simultaneously trying to convince him that I have *loads* of fabric downstairs.  And we own googly eyes.  We have stickers, we have glitter crayons, we have buttons, glue, thread, paint, watercolors. I mean, we could blow this project out of the park.

It took a lot of convincing.

And that was the "pre" school project.  I hope his regular homework isn't nearly this stressful.

First day of school is here, and we start the day off with some cinnamon rolls, smoothies, prayer, scripture reading and I think "I could maybe actually be a successful parent if I was this emotional for every day but alas, Monday will come and I will drive Mitchell the 10 feet to school in my pajamas while he is brushing his teeth in the backseat.  And I will say, 'Remind me to read scriptures before bed tonight' which usually correlates to Mitchell telling the story of Nephi and the boat, in his own words (besides the 'And it came to pass' every so often) pretending to read Alma- sometimes upside down. Not that that isn't just awesome.  Somethings aren't my strength, okay.  Like mornings.  Mornings are stupid.

Moving on.  Mitchell was content to take a bunch of pictures his first day by my beautiful roses I thought looked ridiculous last year.  (Someone needs to tell me  A. Listen (sometimes) to my husband and B. Things grow.) and so 150 pictures later we walked to school (maybe that will stick this year, haha) and then when we walked onto school property I said, "Oh Mitchell! Let's take a picture here!"

And as if he is much older (certainly not 5) and embarrassed of his mother (certainly not me) he yelled "MOM! We are NOT! DOING! THAT!" in a quick stern voice that he's never actually used before.

"What is wrong? It's just a picture!"

And he marched his little behind over to the special kindergarten playground, waited for the bell to ring, lined up by the door, refused to smile at me, or give any indication that he was going to miss me at all, and followed his teacher and class into depths of mystery and gloom to which I cannot enter without a photo ID and a name tag (newsflash: I appreciate the effort, I do.  But I have serious doubts this makes school any safer.)

"Well, Ali.  You cannot have any meltdowns and we're going to go home and play.  That's right, play. And you're going to enjoy playing with me, otherwise, I might die.  Also, lets not talk about growing up anymore. mmmkay?"

Needless to say, the situation was more stressful for me than anyone else.  I thought Ali would miss Mitchell more but, as it turns out, "Paris" is a great little day trip.

And so then we walked back over to the school and Mitchell came single- filing out of the front door.  Emma happened to be hanging out with us this day, and bought him a candy bar at the store.  He thanked her and then said to Ali, "I got you a surprise!"

He pulled out of his backpack a little hostess cake with a "My First Day at Kindergarten was a Piece-of-Cake" and gave it to Ali, who loves all things edible.  I said, "You don't have to give it to Ali" Mitchell said, "No.  She likes it!"

Well.  Okay.  "Tell me all about your day.  I want to hear every single part of it"

"Well," he says, "Bennett and Aiden are not in my class anymore."

"Yeahh.... But are the kids at your table nice?"

"Yes.  There are lots of girls"

"Oh. Do you like that?"

"Yes."  (Stupid question, obviously) "And my teacher said to get everything out of my cubby.  And I said, 'is this [cake] for my sister?' and she said, 'No! It's for you!' but I wanted to give it to Ali.  She loves pink and chocolate, right mom?"

Nicest kid.

"Chocolate cake? Yes, I'll eat that now, thanks"

And he continues on about raising his hand, telling the teacher, being nice, and they practiced finding everyone's name all around the room.  Mitchell has is own cubby, backpack hook, spot at the table.  And on everything,  his name is written in red.  And the PM class (I'm assuming) is blue and he's rather have his name written in blue.  And he told the teacher these concerns and she said "I'll have to remember that" So, haha.  He's not as shy as I assumed he'd be since I know at least 2 conversations with the teacher happened on his first day.  Waaay better than I did my entire year of AP Lit.   And he went into the boy bathroom by himself.  He was pretty proud of himself about that.

We came home, lunch, quiet time/nap time and then Mike was practically home and then it's practically dinner.  Days go by way too fast.

Nachos for dinner.  All of our traditions are food.  Which is kind of pathetic.  Mitchell likes nachos "regular" which actually just means chips.  So..... that's just....great.

Overall, I'm sure he'll be fine.  Actually, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine as well. Ali surprised me with her lack of reaction, but maybe she's used to Mitchell going to school.  And I can't say I'm not a little excited to have some regular one-on-one time with her.  Also, kindergarten is only 2 hours and 48 mins (seriously!) so maybe next year, 1st grade, lunch, 8 hours, will shake me up even more.  GAH!  Stop growing up! Everybody just stop!