Drew started 7th grade today. He confidently got ready for school and gathered all his stuff. He’s very self-sufficient at this point. It hardly felt like a big deal. He even wore a pair of his old jeans instead of one of the brand new pairs of shorts I bought him (but he did wear his brand new, shiny sneakers).
One of the things I love about his school is that the same team of teachers takes a group of kids through sixth, seventh and eighth grade. Going back to the same teachers and classrooms this year really brought home the beauty of this set-up to me. Seventh grade is a tough year. I haven’t met anyone yet who has said otherwise. But something about having already been where he is going this year, knowing what to expect from his teachers and knowing exactly where the band room is and how the lunch room works seems to take a small bit of the sting out of seventh grade. I hope that holds true for the rest of the year as well.
I did take a First Day of School photo. It is obvious that I should not take photos before I have had my coffee. What the heck? Now that I’m going taking a photography class, I seem to have lost my photo mojo. I will try again tomorrow, I promise.
We had a little bit of a rush to get out the door on time, but nothing too bad. He has a great schedule – all the electives he wanted and his academics are advanced classes, which is better than what happened last year (he got stuck in remedial classes because they didn't have his test scores yet - on his first day at a new school where he didn't know anybody....it was bad)! And, aside from a 40-minute stint in car line (I don’t know what was going on! It’s a good thing I didn’t have to get Emma until much later, due to an after-school club!), things went smoothly.
But I am a little tired. It’s tough re-adjusting my body to an early-rise schedule. I’m cutting a few corners here and there, some of which I maybe shouldn’t cut.
It came down to time for making dinner this evening and I realized that, due to an unforeseen quesadilla event yesterday, we did not have enough tortillas left for what I’d planned. And, let’s just say, I didn’t have a lot of other options for a quick-fix meal. Crap. That meant I had to go to the grocery store before I could make dinner. So, I set the kids to their afternoon tasks, shed my cardigan in light of the horrifically hot afternoon, thinking that my strappy sundress would be okay on its own, decided against touching up my melted makeup, and pulled out of the driveway. Only after I got to the store did I realize that the corner I’d cut today was shaving the pits.
I tried my best to bend delicately at the knees and stretch up high on my tippy toes to reach my items at the store so nobody would know my predicament (isn't it weird how, once we are going to the store, the list of necessary items magically grows?). I smiled awkwardly at people and sincerely hoped I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew. And for once, I didn’t.
By the time I’d reached the checkout, I was devoid of all self-confidence and decided that I needed a candy bar. You know, Mr. Nestle Crunch and I haven’t hung out for a while, and sometimes, crunchy chocolate is just the kind of friend a girl needs. Mr. Crunch didn’t care about my grooming habits and glamour-less visage. He was such a sweetie and I enjoyed his company.
You may have seen a girl driving an old, green Cadillac, licking crunchy chocolate crumbs out of a candy wrapper.
That wasn’t me.
You may also have seen a girl realize that a little bit of chocolate had jumped ship and landed on her dress, melting instantly. She might have licked the chocolate off her dress.
That also wasn’t me.
No, no. I’m sure that by the time you saw that girl, I was already at home, making a decidedly non-chocolate dinner.
Daily Bliss: finishing everything on today's to-do list (even the items I wrote on my hand)
Wake-up Playlist: Wheat, I Met a Girl