All the boys...and me: Don’t let the school door hit you on the way out, Daddy

{Editor’s note: Your extremely beautiful and supremely talented regularly scheduled mommy blogger is getting a well-deserved night off (glass of Pinot Grigio and a Ped Egg (sexy!), in hand) from ATBAM after a very busy day of being an awesome mom. In her absence, I will do my best to capture one of those seminal events in the life of a parent: the first day of (pre)school. While I like to write (or perhaps more accurately, I do not mind writing), this blogging thing is new to me. So please be gentle. And don’t worry, Molly will be back soon.}

The night before the first day of school has a few unmistakable flashback-inducing traits: butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach and excessive tossing and turning all night, just to name a few. It’s the strange intoxicating and sometimes nauseating mix of excitement and dread. Having moved around a fair amount as a kid, I remember this feeling all too well. What I didn’t know, but what I discovered last night, kids aren’t the only ones that suffer this end-of-summer anxiety. And in fact, in this house, it was only the parents.

For months, we’ve been preparing for this day. I’ve lost count of how many times we have read “D.W.’s Guide to Preschool” or “Maisy Goes to Preschool.” We visited their school a couple times in the last few months, which allowed the boys to meet their teachers, Mrs. L and Miss C. They were instantly enthralled with the chairs that have tennis balls on the bottom of the legs. As it turns out, my boys were ready months ago. Molly and me, not so much. Perhaps we needed to be reading: “D.W.’s Parents Guide to Dropping D.W. off at Preschool.” (From what I can tell about Maisy, she seems to be an orphan mouse, so I doubt she could be of any help.

So the boys seemed genuinely excited about the first day of school when Molly woke them up early this morning, around 6:30. Nevertheless, deep down, I figured (hoped?) they were just putting up a good, strong front. The waterworks would come. They had to, right? We all had breakfast together before scrambling around getting them dressed, loading their backpacks, and packing their lunches. Then we hopped in the car to head across the river into Arlington.

Any fleeting notion that H&D had greater first day jitters than we did was washed away quickly after about two and a half minutes in the classroom when one of them (I honestly don’t know which one, I was too nervous to remember) looked up from his puzzle and said, “Are you guys leaving soon?” And so it began. We hugged the little dudes, tucked away our camera, and quickly slipped out of the basement classroom, not wanting to embarrass our two little three-olds in front of their newfound classmates.

It’s a new routine for everyone. Molly goes back to work, still half time, but five mornings a week. The boys’ school is only a block away from my office, so they will be driving into school and work with me. The boys are especially chatty (they are Papa Joe’s grandkids, after all) in the morning. I am not. That said, even if it means I have to say good-bye to my slightly ribald and mostly juvenile radio morning show, I am very much looking forward to having my two little guys and their running backseat commentary to cheer me up every morning. “It’s Joe Biden’s House, Daddy! Where he is?” “It’s Friday Night – that’s my second favorite Katy Perry song!” “I don’t see the boo-boo on the National Cathedral!” “It’s the Monument, Daddy? Why it got a crack? Why, Daddy, why?” “It’s Maroon 5, Daddy.” Chatterboxes, these two.

Despite the near monsoon conditions, the first day of preschool went swimmingly. At the end of the day, the boys were very excited (though exhausted), and happily mentioned that a few of the kids (all of whom were curiously and unbelievably named ‘Bob’) were bawling when they parents left. (Clearly, they were just telling us this to make us feel worse! Come on; throw us a bone, fellas.) The steady rain today meant their first recess was held in the Church’s gym, which suited H&D just fine, as they excitedly described a game of “Throw Bowling.” I am sure it is safer than it sounds! During music time, Mrs. Leckey led the 15-person classroom in what I am sure was a stirring rendition of the ABC song, which is slightly more age-appropriate to the current crop of Top 40 my boys insist on in the car. I just hope they don’t start quoting a few of those lyrics at school. Here’s hoping for a bit more “Wheels on the Bus” in my kids’ musical repertoire and bit less “Moves Like Jagger.”

For three years now, the boys have been safely ensconced in their Connecticut Avenue bubble, our apartment and the neighborhood. When Molly went back to work part-time (in the office two days a week) the boys couldn’t have gotten any better care than what they have received from their mom, Gigi, and then their amazing nanny, Betty. A large part of the reason these little dudes are awesome little men is because they’ve had these three women and their Nana as huge influences in their early development. We’ve been blessed with this luxury of getting to keep the boys at home until now, but Molly and I both know that it’s time to take that next step. Today was that first step, no matter if Mom and Dad were ready for it. The important thing is Henry and Drew were.

Thanks for letting me babble on and act as a substitute blogger for the night. If there is anything, I have learned from this, it is these three things: 1) there is no substitute for the real thing, my hats off to Molly; 2) blogging really brings out the parenthetical phrase in me. (Not sure what that is all about, sorry.); and 3) I no longer remember how to write.

So tomorrow and all the future days going forward, Molly will head to the metro in the morning and All Her Boys (sans Gatsby) will load into our car and head to school and work together. Who knows, maybe they’ll shed a tear or two this time. A dad can (secretly) hope.

Full of energy at 7 o'clock in the morning