my day, in thirds

Into the school year only four days, I am beginning to see a pattern. The first third of my day, is spent sending them off. The second third is about getting them all back in the nest, and then the third third is about getting ready to do it all again the next day.

Years ago, a friend asked me why I always went to Walden Pond, why couldn't I switch it up and come to the zoo or the museum? And I said because I was getting Walden down perfectly. I knew exactly what to pack. I knew what time to go to avoid traffic. I timed the diaper change with the ride home. I knew that it took almost 15 minutes to get from the car down to the pond, arranging things onto the stroller and strapping the boys in there. I knew what snacks did not attract bees but was enough to get us to lunch time. Anyway, I had the outing down to a science. I wore a groove into that road but I just adored that rhythm, the sameness. Sometimes, I varied it up by stopping first at De Cordova sculpture garden or meeting a friend to show them the Revere statue in town but for the most part it was me and my boys and OUR day.

So this is how I am beginning to feel about our school year. I sit up, as if rigged by springs, around 5, do my quick but essential regimen of hygiene and spiritual devotions (okay, basically it's a shower, reading some promise-y passages, and then praying some beggy prayers for us and for our kids.) But then, I go down the steps and do breakfast setup-- eggs, bowl and whisk by the stove, cereal and its accoutrements on the counter. Then I quietly go upstairs and make sure the outfits are weather-appropriate. This morning, BTB had laid out green shorts, his green globe T, even green undies! As they get dressed, I send them downstairs where Geoff is pouring juice and making little scrambles for them. The morning's great crescendo is putting the boys on the schoolbus. The denoument is coming back to the girls who watch an episode of Miffy, get a yogurt-fruit bowl and I get to do their hair. Then it's about getting Geoff off to school, the girls wait at the front windows to watch him take off up the alley and down the street. On her first day, I was able to bike with Clara on the back who described my bike as nicer than Dad's but my ride was "crashier" (low branch, solid helmet.) Dropping her off at nursery school is without fanfare, I think she will be the type of kid that wants to be dropped off two blocks before the high school dance so she can apply lipstick and light a cigarette. (Not that I was like that AT ALL as an adolescent.)

But then Calliope is my partner erranding, getting dinner ingredients, and folding laundry. While I check email, she sits under my desk with her back-to-school gifts from my parents (a tiny canvas bag filled with little thrifted figurines and Hershey Kisses). Then we fetch Clara, who has outgrown naps and whose afternoon activities include brushing her own hair and writing on post-it notes. We read stories and simmer dinner until it's time to walk to meet the school bus. I brought a lawn chair out there yesterday. The chair, the Kevin Henkes stories, made a half hour pass easily. Until that walk home with my four ducklings, I cannot rest. Which may be why, when they came home yesterday, I passed out for 15 solid minutes, noodles bubbling on the stove.

Geoff is Mr. Mom for the post-dinner bedtime regimen. He clips nails, bathes, and reads to all of them. This is when I step out for a workout or go strip paint. But then it's back to the backpacks, with forms to fill out, lunchboxes to excavate. This is when Geoff and I wearily check email, speak with family, and try to have meaningful interaction before falling into bed.

Wow, this is a lot of verbiage: but it's a documenation our cadence, the pace of our days right now. Like those trips to Walden, I am understanding how this goes, how to perfect these deep worn grooves into the day.