wrong day to premiere the new mascara

this morning was jools’ first day at montessori at the big school (AKA BC’s elementary school.) i had prepped BC by telling her that we needed to stay upbeat and supportive (which of course didn’t stop her from bursting into tears on the ride over when she heard that jools would start his experience with art class taught by a teacher who freaks BC out — she cried because she was so worried that she would be mean to him and that he would get in trouble or would cry). we made cinnamon buns (BC ate the tops off two of them; jools refused to eat them), readied ourselves, and we were off.

why did i even worry? the dude walked in like a champ. he greeted his teacher, and we dropped stuff off in his cubby, though he insisted on keeping his backpack with him for lineup. he wanted to look like all the big kids, y’know. BC and colleen joined jools on the montessori line for a bit, then i said goodbye to BC and told her that she had to go stand in line without me because i had to hang with jools. she understood, fortunately. jools couldn’t sit still and visited the boys room [b]three times[/b] before his teacher picked them up. he was fascinated by the urinal in the boys room (i peeked to make sure he was ok in there; fret not — no other kids were in the bathroom). fortunately, he didn’t ask me anything about it, as i am not exactly an expert on urinal etiquette.

and then, when we got on line, he looked up at me with his puppy brown eyes and said: “you can go to work now.” i was dismissed.

i stayed until his teacher arrived, but i didn’t walk him in to his class the way other parents walked teary youngsters in (and there were several boohooey kids on his line).

then i stood there and teared up as he walked away.

bad mom that i am, i forgot his blanky. later in the day, i had to return and be the stealth mom, slipping the blanky into his cubby without his knowing it. nazia, one of our friends who works in the lunchroom and in extended day, stopped me as i crept by. “julian has lots of big smiles today,” she said happily. “i saw him earlier, and he looked happy.” my heart leapt.

good thing i brought the blanky. when i arrived to pick him and BC up (note: my THIRD trip to the school today), the man who is in charge of the montessori program walked the children past me [i]sans jools[/i]. huh? “you’d better go into the classroom,” he advised. “julian is crashed out on the beanbag chair. he started napping, but then the fire alarm went off. but he’s out again.” his class doesn’t actually nap. but my boy does. i walked to his class and was greeted by the kindergarten girls, who all shooshed me and pointed to my little boy, curled up and sweaty on the beanbag chair. already, the little girls love little jools (AKA LL Cool J for “the ladies love cool jools”). i laughed, bent down, and picked up my sleepy boy.

i nearly made it outside with him when he suddenly jerked his head up like a birddog and barked: “where’s kira?” he doesn’t miss a beat that one. a minute or two later and we saw BC walking toward us, all smiles for her brother. “how was your first day!” she asked him. she was so concerned about him. i tell you, that girl likes to discuss at length how her brother’s arrival basically has ruined her existence; but deep-down, she adores him. and he her. while such occasions are fleeting, i treasure them and lock them away for those moments when i feel like i am failing life.

they don’t last long before someone is smacking someone in the head and screaming, “mommmmmmmmm!”

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