- The kids went back to school on August 8. Does anybody else find that odd? I distinctly recall going to school after Labor Day, every damn year. Other weirdness: the single-spaced PAGE of crap we’re supposed to buy for our kid, but also, the classroom. Including hand sanitizer, which my family doesn’t even use. Petty much? Yes, yes I am.
- I also remember going to school with a backpack, a binder, some pencils and a lunch, in a brown paper sack. End of list.
- I’d say the whole thing went pretty well. I made them breakfast. Always a win. Also I don’t think I yelled. I mean shit, it was the first day of school, I couldn’t yell at them THAT DAY.
- Okay maybe I did once. But for sure only once.
- Rocket is in first grade. Ava is in fifth. Ava was most concerned about her teacher being able to “control the hoodlums” better than the last year’s teacher, so she can “actually learn something.” I have no idea where she gets that attitude. Rocket was most concerned about whether he should go by “Rocket” or “Charles,” since he’s in the first grade he was thinking it might be time for the more mature name. Though I was silently weeping and rolling in hysterics, begging him to keep his nickname, I kept that inside and muttered “Whichever you choose is fine, buddy” in my most supportive voice. He tried “Charles,” but soon realized he has no idea how to read or write Charles, so on the second day of school he announced he’s sticking with Rocket.
- Speaking of Rocket, have I ever told you how he got that nickname? I don’t think I have. I’ll do it now. When I was pregnant with him, Ava was about 3. She was a very precocious, verbal kid. Again, no idea. Anyhoo, we decided to take her to the ultrasound to find out the sex of the baby. When the doctor announced “boy,” Ava got off her stool, walked up to the doctor, looked him straight in the eye and started yelling at him that it was NOT a boy it was a GIRL. She was pissed. Like really pissed. To change her mood, and get her excited about a little brother, we asked her if she’d help us name him (ROOKIE FUCKING PARENT MOVE) — immediately she responds, as if it was the only name in the world, “Rocketship. And his middle name can be ‘Rock On.'” Rocketship Rock On.
- And we told her it was a great name (if we were Frank Zappa) and of course she started telling everybody “I’m having a little brother and his name is Rocketship!” God help you if you called him something else. We thought it would fade after he was born. No way. Stronger than ever. After a few months, she let us shorten it to Rocket. And so it stands.
- It was a little tough letting Rocketship Rock On go to that first day of school. I was remembering last year, when I was so excited about homeschooling, and I was remembering all those days together, and how little I appreciated them at the time and how I lost patience and sucked as a homeschool mom — and I felt that familiar anguish, just a few flashes, of wondering why I couldn’t be a little better, a little more patient, a little more present. I fucking hated homeschooling, and I sucked at it, but in hindsight it’s beautiful, you know?
- Like most things.
- In other news, Georgia never wears clothes. Or shoes. Or diapers. We have a potty in our living room for her. So that’s not trashy at all.
- And…check it out. I recently had an experience that sums up motherhood PERFECTLY: Try to get your two-year-old to pee in the toilet every day for two months. Cry when she finally does it because you realize she’s growing up.
WHAT THE FUCK people?
How nutty is this motherhood thing?
Have a great week. If you’re in my area, try not to die from the heat.