bells

I think I'm almost ready to sit down and write about last week.  Jake started kindergarten.  Or, as the locals put it- Kiddie Garden.  As if there is some sort of top soil involved.  Or chicken wire.

It was bigger than I thought it would be.  This whole school thing.  I thought I would be fine.  I have been working full time since my 12 week maternity leave was up.  Jake was at Charmaine's until six weeks shy of five years old.  Then at preschool and summer camp since January.  I didn't think kindergarten would be all that different until we got about four blocks away from kindergarten last Monday when Jake stopped walking and said, "Mom.  Mom.  This is it, isn't it?  This is like, real life.  Mom.  This is the first day of my real life, Mom, and every Monday from now on I'm going to put on my clothes and head out to school.  And then work when I get big.  And that's how you know you've started real life"

And he was right.

And now we are a week and two days into real life.

Leaving Jake at kindergarten was more emotional than I thought it would be.  I didn't cry at the door, or even at home but I miss him in a whole different way than I missed him when he was at daycare/preschool/summer camp.  Parents aren't allowed in the school in the morning, which took me by surprise.  But I guess in places where there are school buses parents don't even see the school in the morning.  It could be burning down and surrounded by snipers for all anyone would know.  You just put your kid on a bus with one grown up and fifty kids and no seatbelts and hope for the best.  My mental health does not allow me to think about school buses.  Anything bad that ever happened to me at school happened to me on a school bus, not at actual school. 
One plus of not being allowed in the school is that the other parents aren't allowed in the school either.  Especially that junkie looking dad I saw at kindergarten parent's orientation.  Or the Jersey Shore Wannabes who clamor and fuss outside the doors.

One of Dave's cousins just finished up at Parris Island and has been shipped off to wherever Marines go after a week home after Parris Island yesterday, so we went over to the house on Sunday afternoon.  The idea of anyone's child going to wherever Marines go after a week home makes me want to throw up, and I almost passed out when I saw his battalion class picture.  Is that what it is called?  I don't know.  I don't want to know.  They all looked like babies.  Scared babies trying to look brave. 
I've never seen a military photo of anyone where I can see anything but a scared kid trying to figure out what a brave face and stiff upper lip is supposed to look like.  What a soldier is supposed to look like.  I'd rather see the candid photographs taken around the base or in the camps.  I'd rather see what a soldier actually does look like.  Rarely does a soldier look like himself in his formal military photo. 
But the point of this isn't about kids joining up, it's about that we were at the house and one of Dave's uncles brought his new girlfriend and she is a first grade teacher at Jake's school.  And she went to high school with Dave.  And she's good friends with Jake's kindergarten teacher.  And Jacob fell in love with her.  And that's why living in a small town has its perks.  This week is easier than last for lots of reasons, a big one being that there is someone who is practically family working down the hall from the kindergarteners. 

Hopefully she sticks around for awhile.

The minutes go by so slowly when Jake is at school.  I wonder what he is doing all the time.  ALL.  THE. TIME.  I get jealous when I see moms on the street during school hours with their kids that are just not quite old enough to go to school.  Especially those kids who missed the birthday cutoff.  Those just-turned-fivers who are probably heartbroken they aren't in school.  Unlike my just-turned-five-and-one-halfer.  My five-point-fiver.  My "I'm-going-to-be-six-pretty-soon-well,I-mean-soon-like-in-March"er.

Jacob got his first loose tooth on Sunday.  It's hardly loose.  I think it's less loose today than it was then so it might be a fluke.  But don't tell him that. 
It's a lower left incisor, and that might have been the first one to come in too.  I don't think I kept track, but I know those bottom teeth were in first.
Jake knows the story of my first lost tooth.  I've shared it before, but I'll recap in fifty words or less:
Swallowed it while eating cinnamon toast.  Thought the tooth fairy would have to reach up my butt to pull it out.  Grandma died that day/night, and I swore I saw the tooth fairy in my room but now I believe it was her saying goodbye.

Did I make it?  I didn't count. 

Jake's kindergarten is full day.  7.45am-3.15pm full.  And then he has afterschool care until 6.  But I try to get him by 5 because they start in on homework at 5 and I don't want him doing his homework without me. 

Homework.  Now there's where those tears will eventually fall.  It's frustrating.  We are all tired.  And hungry.  Or full.  Depending on whether we just ate or not. 

Eating dinner.  It's like a new adventure.  Kids get hungry at school, even when you pack them a lunch that is twice what a grownup would eat during the day.  A drink and a peanut butter and honey, carrots/grapes/tomatoes/pears/whatever, a grahamish or cheesish sort of cracker snack, something that resembles a chewy fruitish thing, and two Hershey Kisses. 

Two Hershey Kisses that the boy kisses before he opens because he believes I kiss them before I put them in his bag.

Can you stand it?