Just A Sherpa

Today is the first day of school in their new schools for my kids.

I spent most of yesterday, when not defacing wallpaper or proving totally inept at Pilates (more about that later if I can still sit up) enrolling the kids and making sure that the paperwork was all good. In our little town, there is one primary school which serves kids in grades K-2 and then an intermediate school which serves kids in grades 3-5 so the girls aren't in the same school for the first time since Jane was in preschool and Ana started Kindergarten. I went to central administration and made sure we had all the correct paperwork on file, etc.

Then, we toured Jane's school and met her teacher and six million other people whose names I cannot pronounce. (New York--dude-- what is with the names here? I'm starting to think it's a plot to out me as a Southerner. I mean, no one has any trouble with our name, not here or anywhere. Two syllables, pretty much spelled like it sounds. But the names of the people up here --can I buy a vowel? Because you all seem to have a lot of them. As an example of my total "Ahm from the Sow-eth. Whare are y'all from?" non-savvy, every time I mention the last name of my new friend Lin? Someone corrects me. I'm developing a complex. Seriously. I mean, a BIGGER complex than would normally be found on a woman who draws pictures on her own wallpaper. Lin is my FRIEND--shouldn't I be able to pronounce her name??)

(I seem to digress just as much in New York as I did in Texas. Good to know some things never change.)


THIS morning, we took Ana to school because her school starts first and we had an appointment to enroll her at 8:00. Coop came along as he always does on the kids' first days. I'm starting to realize that this is as much for MY benefit as for the kids. He murmurs reassurances to the girls and then stops me from either having a nervous breakdown or threatening the people in whose care I am leaving my children. I don't know why it is but my instincts fluctuate between wanting to offer to write grants for the school and volunteer to run the...I don't know, school supply drive or something AND wanting everyone to know that if any harm comes to my kid, I am gonna open such a big can of Whup-Ass (Texas phrase) that they will whisper my name for years to come.

Have I mentioned that in real life, I'm a total pacifist? Seriously, I don't even spank our dumb cow-dog, Scout. So, I don't have any idea where that kind of Mama-Bear stuff comes from.

For those of you keeping score at home, I did NOT cry. I kind of teared up when we left Ana in her class but I'm sure it was just that I hadn't had any breakfast. It probably had nothing at all to do with her pale little face and eyes full of hope and terror. Not a thing.

By that time, Jane had had ENOUGH of all this dawdling and fuss over Ana and she demanded to be taken to her school so she could meet her new friends, dang it.

So, we did that.

And then Coop drove me home (another really big bonus on these kinds of days is that I'm not driving. I'm not saying I'm a menace on the road but it could be that I'm a tad distracted. That whole living in your head and body at the same time thing? Not really my strength.) and left for work.

And now I'm doing laundry. And scrubbing my kitchen.

Because that's what I do when I am discombobulated. I do laundry. I scrub my kitchen.

(Well, also, I eat chocolate but we appear to be out of chocolate at the moment. Good thing, too.)

(Clever device to mark the change of subject)

I went to Pilates at Lin's house last night. The nicest group of women were there --all very welcoming to me and tolerant of my incessant questions about life on Long Island. And a good instructor, who clearly sized me up as a rank beginner, there being no remnant of my former skinny, fit self in evidence. I did okay at the class but I think maybe I didn't work hard enough because I'm not very sore at all. Given that the class is 95% work on core muscles, particularly abdominals, you would think I'd be screaming right about now. But I'm not. Maybe it's a delayed reaction? Or maybe I CHEATED? Maybe it's just that my heart kind of hurts so I can't feel my stomach muscles? I don't know.

Still no Edward but one of the little neighbor girls had posted fliers at Ana's school. Isn't that nice?


Ei said…
What a full morning you have had.

And um, do you want to come and be discombobulated at my house, because my kitchen could surely use it. I'll provide chocolate.

Maybe, just maybe, Pilates isn't supposed to hurt. Or you, know...that cheating thing. But not on purpose, of course
Karen said…
The pilates pain will kick in tomorrow. My yoga teacher taught me that. Real pain starts 48 hours after the exercise.

So give us an update tomorrow!!!

And GOOD FOR YOU, btw :-)
What's tripping you up? The Italian surnames? Or is there some other predominant ethnicity up in your new neck of the woods?

I'm sure they all love your Southernisms. We Northeasterners think y'all are so quaint.
LaDonna said…
Good for you for not crying AND for doing Pilates! Wow, you're really incredible! First full week in your new home in your new state and you've already met most of the neighborhood, joined a Pilates group, and are ready to take over the title of Volunteer of the Year at their school :)
Tarasview said…
I found your blog through entrecard and I just wanted to let you know I really enjoy reading it! And I totally understand the mother bear instinct that can rise out of a pacifist!