I dreaded having both boys in school this year. Last year, because we newly moved to the area, Hooper attended a preschool that was 12 miles, albeit 30 minutes, commute. He went two days a week and waking him up and getting him fed and dressed in a timely manner on those days was torturous. And by the time I picked him up a mere 3 hours later, I’d had spent nearly two hours in the car.

Because of his birthday, this year we had the option of signing him up for preschool three days a week or enrolling him in the transitional kindergarten program. When I heard the TK program was 5 days a week, I almost immediately discounted it. And then I heard that it was state funded and, well, because money doesn’t grow on trees and because the local school offered the program, it started to look better and better.

The transition from preschool to TK has been a rough one for Hooper. The amount of things that confront you as a parent that you didn’t anticipate are vast. And I know I’m still speaking from ignorance because all I can do is laugh about how much more is in store for me. The truth is, and I think all of us parents feel this, is that none of us know what we are doing and yet we’re in these roles as mothers and fathers that give us the authority and responsibility over the lives of others. Somehow we’re supposed to raise these beings of ours to be good, decent people and it’s all based, more or less, on instinct; or, at times, on necessity — using the tools we have and picking up others along the way.

Willy and I dread picking up Hooper from school.

Each day, the teacher walks the kids out to the flagpole where all the children wait for their parents to retrieve them. And each day we get there just a bit early to sit and watch from the car as Hooper invades someone’s personal space. I spend a few minutes watching, wondering when this behavior will end and when I can quietly crawl out of my hiding place to claim this reckless child as my own. It reminds me of the infant stage when you’re in a restaurant and your child is screaming and everyone is looking at you and all you want to do is desperately pretend that the baby is not your own because you’ve tried every trick in the book and they’re still crying and you’ve reached the level of defeat where you’ve totally surrendered to their screams and almost don’t even hear them anymore but all these people are looking at you to do something to make it stop. Yeah, it’s like that.

The other day I picked Van up from preschool (he’s going two days a week) and his teacher told me how polite he is and how he’s such a delight to have in her class. What I wanted to say to Van’s teacher was, “well it ain’t nothin’ I’m doing at home because my other kid is supposedly a dick”. And please know I’m obviously being facetious when I refer to my sweet, first-born, number one cuddler (who nailed me in the ear with a shoe the other day) a dick. I understand that he needs time to transition and that behavior doesn’t change overnight (side note: it’s gotten a lot better over the last two weeks, yay). I also know better than anyone the inner workings at play… the fact he only very recently dropped his nap, yet will fall asleep on any afternoon car ride even if it’s only 10 miles away. The fact is, we can all make excuses until we’re blue in the face for our children. The reality is that they are human and just like us, they are figuring out the ropes. I’m trying my best to be consistent, though admittingly at times I feel like a fumbling idiot.

We’ve all shed tears. We’re all learning, we’re all growing.

But I’ll tell ya what… Tuesday morning, when both boys are in school at the same time? Yeah, it’s my new favorite day of the week.

And as a side note, so much love to all the teachers out there that find it somewhere deep within them to have patience and even love for a wild little boy like my own. So much appreciation, my heart swells.

And as a side, side, note, there are just too many kids and not enough teachers in public schools. How’s that for ending a post with a loaded statement?