School: what! what!

So the kids started school on Tuesday.
















Ezra came in the bathroom that morning saying, "My tummy hurts and I'm nervous." He still scarfed down many mini pancakes and strawberries, though. 

Walking into the school, Ezra kept saying, "I'm not ready. I want my old school. I'm not ready. It's too busy."

The crowds in his school lobby were overwhelming. Parents and kids and siblings and strollers and it was not the best set-up. The principal has been nothing but warm and welcoming, but I'm beginning to suspect that her outfit is a little bit more loosey-goosey than Iris' school. Not much communication. Teacher assignments received on Friday. You get the drift.

So we sat in the vestibule on the benches outside the school doors and I gave him a hug. I even asked him, "Do you want to say a little prayer for bravery?" He said "yes," so we did.

After lining up and being released when the bell rang we walked down to his locker. He shares a locker with a girl in his class ("She's brown like me!") and he literally skipped into his classroom after shaking hands with his teacher.

Two little boys joined him at the group table--one with a Lego Movie t-shirt and one with a Chima t-shirt on. Sporting his own Ninjago t-shirt, Ezra started talking to them right away. I just kind of stared and didn't feel ready to rip the cord. But by this time, Iris was already 15 minutes late for school and we still had to drive there.

Walking into her school, Iris was super keen on wearing her backpack and carrying her kitty lunchbox. A classroom aide helped Iris find her nametag and put away her lunchbox and backpack. But when I told her that I was going to leave and would come back after snack and would she like a hug? Stuff got a little shaky. 



I didn't leave with her crying which was a gift. I kinda knew she would (and did), though.

The principal--who is a MASTER PRINCIPAL--no really, she's amazing--stopped me on my way out and asked how Iris was doing. The principal herself holding the hand of an older girl who was a little bit Weepy Willie. 

I walked out of the building saying, "Oh god oh god oh god oh god." I was just so worried about everything. Would she cry all day? Would she use the potty? Would she eat lunch? Would the kids be able to understand her raspy voice? None of which I could control, and all of which I would have to surrender and let be.

I distracted myself all day with errands and not cooking dinner and then went to pick them up. It takes me about an hour and fifteen minutes round trip to drive to Iris' school, walk in, pick-up, teacher debrief, back in the car, onto the next school, and then back home.

Iris' teacher said she had a good day, that she did cry, that she did not use the bathroom (I highly suspect it freaks her out as she had an accident today which bums me out...) but rather held it all day (dayum), and totally warmed up to the kids--whom she now calls her friends--and the routine in the afternoon. 

Ezra said he has two new best friends and a secret handshake. 

Both were smiling and happy and chatty and reported back that no one was mean. Success.

I am still worried about Iris not drinking her milk at lunch (homegirl needs the calories), but I'm trying to compensate by giving her more milk at snack and dinner. T and I decided that if the month goes by and that's still happening, that we would weigh her and maybe up the powder supplement that goes into her milk mixture if it looks like she's lost weight. And maybe even go back up to whole milk. 

I am still worried about her not using the potty, but it's only day two, right? Ezra had a classmate in kindergarten who frequently had accidents simply because she waited too long to go. It's early days for Iris and this skill, so I have to slow my roll, I know. I guess I was just so encouraged by how well she was doing at home, that I'm a little dismayed by this (singular) set back. Okay. Processing it out loud makes me seem unreasonable about this, so I'm going to try and relax. I sent extra clothes, discussed it with her teacher, it's going to be fiiiine.

Ezra. Well, Ezra is great. His first math worksheet shows that he is a tidgy bit ahead of the game so our summer of loafing didn't atrophy his skills too much. He's happy. I like his teacher. He's making friends which is practically that boy's calling. Ezra told me today that a new boy is coming tomorrow and that he "is going to make him feel welcome and offer to be his best friend." His one complaint about his classroom: "Mama, there aren't any TOYS." Uh, sir, this isn't kindergarten anymore.