First Day: Lots of New, All Wrapped Up with a Bow

How much can you jam-pack into one morning?

In our household ... a lot!

After a night spent shivering from the unexpectedly cold (yes, cold!) air wafting through our open windows, we woke up early with a lot to do. It took me a while to shake off the chill, grimacing as I looked at Jack, nestled warm and snuggly in his nest of covers, right between us. Apparently he knows how to take care of himself quite nicely, thank you very much.

As I've stated many a' time before, I am not a morning person. So when the alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m., I don't care if it's an annoying beep or a catchy tune from Don's iPhone ... it's still early. Couple that with the need to be immediately, fully awake and on the ball ... well, let's just say it was a bit of a rough start for me. BUT ... it's a special day! And that makes any discomfort worth it all.

After taking out the dog and feeding him, we decided to tackle a few things first before waking up the kids. Don made the coffee and began working on the French Toast that Aidan requested for his Birthday Breakfast, while I slapped together a lunch for him. Thankfully he woke up pleasantly, excited that not only was this his 7th birthday, but also the first day of school. He made a beeline for the kitchen table, its centerpiece a brightly colored gift bag. Tissue paper went flying as he dug down, screeching with delight at the buried treasure: a pitching machine, so he can fine-tune his batting skills. This was a "gift with benefits," for this gets us off the hook with his persistent badgering of needing a grown-up pitcher. The entire box weighed about 2 ounces, so I hope this doesn't turn out to be a plastic piece of junk.

With the French Toast gobbled up and his carefully selected clothes donned, we had a few minutes to wait before his bus came. My parents came down for the Big Send-Off, along with another hearty round of "Happy Birthday To You," and my boy was beaming. Yet something -- "someone" -- was missing on this fine sunny birthday-school morning. You can't have a celebration of this caliber without inviting My Friend Murphy ...

A few weeks ago we were given the information regarding the bus Aidan would be taking, the number seared into his little brain. It was the same bus as last year, so it might it quite easy for him. He was a bit upset when I told him he probably wouldn't have the same bus driver, his beloved Mr. Bill, but at least he knew now what riding a bus was like, and hopefully we wouldn't have a repeat of the horrible tear-fest of last year. He seemed fine as we waited outside.

Suddenly we saw one of those mini-buses riding up the side street. We didn't budge, for we knew his bus was a big one. It turned the corner and stopped in front of our house. It had the name of his school on the side. The door opened. We were quite confused, so we walked over to the bus driver to see what was going on. She explained there was a last-minute switch. Oh, OK, fine ...

But then I looked at my boy. That big smile, that exuberance had completely disappeared. In its place was a look I knew far too well -- a look of uncertainty, of caution, with an ever so slight tinge of fear. My boy hates change (gee, I wonder where he gets that from?). He had everything all planned out so there would be no surprises, so he would know what to expect. But this ... this! ... was bigger than expected, a surprise we didn't see coming at all. He walked up the steps hesitantly, offering a quick, emotion-less good-bye. I could almost see his little wheels frantically spinning, trying to shift gears, trying to get the situation under control. In the flurry of confusion, we couldn't enjoy the moment -- I didn't even get to hug him.

Is it a big deal? Not really. But I'm a Mom ... I'm his Mom ... and he's my precious boy ... and these things are keenly noticed. These things matter.

Last night at an ungodly hour, I slaved away making cupcakes for his birthday treat. His kind teacher said I could drop them off later on so they could celebrate at lunchtime. I was reminded once again how much I prefer cooking over baking ... even silly little boxed cupcakes. As I cleaned up, planning on icing them in the morning, I picked up the empty box, aiming for the recycling bin. Something caught my eye ... the fine print ... "Manufactured at a plant that might produce peanut products." OH! Peanuts! We were forewarned that a boy in his class has a peanut allergy, so it has to be a peanut-free classroom. Does this count? After all this work, can I still bring these blasted maybe-peanut-kissed cupcakes? UGH ... Thanks to some friendly advice, I'm going to call the boy's mom this morning to see just how sensitive he is, with a big apology attached. If it's a go, I'm off to the school later this morning with a very special delivery ...

No tears on my part this morning -- thanks, in part, to the bus confusion which distracted me. I do miss him, though. Grace is romping around the living room, dressing up Jack in various pieces of jewelry, half-watching The Little Einsteins. I miss my boy's presence in a big, big way. Oh, and just wait until Grace leaves for preschool next week for the very first time. I am accepting donations of tissue boxes now.

Happy, happy birthday to my amazing little boy. How I love you ...