Thursday, September 08, 2011

Day Three and I'm Already Exhausted

So everyone's had fine days of school so far. When Genevieve got off the bus with Julia on Tuesday afternoon and I asked her how she liked kindergarten, she shrieked, "It was GREAT! I LOVE IT!"

Surprise after-school ice cream cones to celebrate the first day of school weren't bad either.

Of course from about four o'clock on, Genevieve was a maelstrom of yelling, pushing, hitting, screaming, wailing, and teeth-knashing: the hurricane that is known by parents everywhere as "the way small children behave at home during the adjustment period of starting school." In other words, it takes so much mental and emotional energy and stamina to make it through the school day that when you come home and it's safe to do so, you unleash your stress on those you love the most. Also hate. But really love.

And it's been that way ever since.

Yesterday, day two of the new school year, was really up and down for me. It began with the horrible screaming tantrum about the new school outfit -- you know, the one Genevieve ASKED ME TO BUY for her (to match Julia's) with the school-clothes money from grandma and PICKED OUT THE NIGHT BEFORE as the one she wanted to wear on Wednesday. Because clearly, on Wednesday morning, that outfit represented all that is wrong with the world.

Of course, by afternoon kindergarten bus stop time, all that was forgotten.

Killing time waiting for the bus. She's got the need for speed.

Can't you see the clothes? The horrible, offensive new clothes?

But before kindergarten time rolled around, Genevieve accompanied me to my physical therapy appointment. I was super excited because after taking a six-day course of oral cortisone medication in an attempt to shock my hip injury into a state of surrender after four months of pain, I was on day three or four of no real pain at all, and had even gone for a 100% pain-free run the night before, which felt about as miraculous as seeing the face of Jesus on a piece of toast.

I guess I should have kept the good news to myself, because clearly the fact that I went and told my physical therapist about my improvement explains why this morning I woke up with a sore hip again. Because, you know, superstition and all that.

Hmmm, do you think it's a coincidence that my hip started hurting again AFTER I started to do new physical therapy exercises? Following weeks of slacking on physical therapy because it had no effect whatsoever? I DO NOT.

Anyway, we came home from PT and I sent Genevieve off to school and proceeded to spend the entire afternoon doing nonstop freelance work in a frenzy of catch-up from the day before. It was short day at school because of weekly Late Start (for the teachers' continuing education time) so I really had to rush.

The second day of school went fine as well, and after school let out I made homemade soft pretzels in letter shapes with my daughters. In between them poking, yelling at, pushing, and arguing with each other, that is.

I basically spent the rest of the day and evening frantically trying to do as much paid writing as possible, alternated with yelling and making threats because my children were behaving so atrociously. There may have been a piece of pie and some ice cream thrown in there at some point, but only because pie and ice cream are the recommended treatment for reaching the end of your mothering patience. Did you know?

Then I collapsed in bed and started it all over again at five this morning.

1 comment:

Mnmom said...

I remember so well! Ornery and low-blood-sugar getting off the bus are not a good combination. And no matter what I did, they weren't happy. Or only one was happy. Twin #1 had "clothes issues" so not only did they have to look right, but they had to FEEL right. And was passed muster was impossible for a mere Mom to determine ahead of time. It was all dependent on a twin-derived formula that involved the Dow, the relative humidity, the day of the week, the price of pork bellies, Liz Taylor's marital status, and the current moon phase.