It Began with a BBFT

As I have mentioned in previous posts, I have a hard time with change. So, when it came to the girls and school I was planning on waiting as long as possible to let them spread their little wings. The thought of kindergarten made me misty eyed (and still does by the way) so preschool wasn't on my radar. Then we had baby #3 and my outlook changed. Yes, I love being with the girls, but the idea of a small window of time in the morning with just one child started to sound pretty good. It's only two days a week, and I knew the girls would have fun too--let's face it, I'm no preschool teacher. My creative play resources are sometimes lacking.

So I signed them up and today was the big orientation day. I decided to skip getting my butt kicked by my Jillian michaels workout DVD and blog about it while it's fresh in my mind.

We were off to a rocky start since the girls were fast asleep at 8:15 and we had to be there by 9. They rarely sleep that long so it was ironic. Lydia cried from the moment she got up that she didn't want to go to preschool so I did what any good parent would do and bribed her with treats from starbucks,  After a couple of wardrobe changes both for the girls and myself (this is my debut with an organized parental gathering--what do you wear to something like this???)   I handed them a frozen gogurt, loaded Ben in his carrier and we were off.

I pulled my minivan into a row of about 20 other minivans and joined the stream of parents and preschoolers entering the building.  They both froze as we entered and had to be bumped gently with the stroller from behind to move forward past the front doors. Somehow we made it to their room (the purple panda 3's) which was buzzing with activity. It had all of the cutesy components necessary to make a great preschool classroom and the girls were enamored with everything from the get go. I on the other hand started to feel little tugs of emotion that threatened to disrupt my 'cool with this' mom exterior. It wasn't that I minded leaving them--I am quick to drop them with a sitter for date night or even mommy time at starbucks--but it hit me that this is pre-school. emphasis on the word SCHOOL. It's a new era. An era of classroom parties, parent teacher conferences, forced socialization with other parents, projects, theme days, and the list goes on and on. School means another chapter--and more change--which, I think I have mentioned that I'm  not very good with. I swear that a slide show of their infant and toddler pictures starts in my head at these emotionally charged moments complete with some sappy song like 'wonderful world' or 'somewhere over the rainbow' by that big hawaiian guy playing in the background--which doesn't help things!  Anyhow, I gave myself a stern mental talking to and pulled it together (I know, I know you all can laugh. I will be mess when they go to kindergarten, and college will just be over the top).  Just as the parents and children were feeling comfortable with the situation, the teachers rang a little bell which is universal teacher talk for 'shut your mouths everyone' and they trilled in a sing song voice only a preschool teacher can master, 'Ok parents, time to go downstairs. Say goodbye! Children find a carpet square for story time'.  Now, granted we were only leaving for 30 minutes for a brief orientation but you would have thought were were dropping them off at a Russian orphanage never to be seen again. The cries started immediately. The twins at the time were across the room playing when the pandemonium began. I saw Lydia's little face through the sea of parents and crying preschoolers start to search wildly for me and then crumple into a cry. Well, I nearly grabbed her and made a run for the car but managed keep it together, calm her down and guide her towards a carpet square next to Grace who was oblivious to the chaos. Grace apparently was born ready for preschool and had no qualms whatsoever.

As we settled into our meeting you could still hear the wails echoing off of the walls. I tried to casually glance around to see if any less stoic moms had turned to 'the ugly cry' as Oprah calls it but everyone was surprisingly cool.

Ultimately the girls had a great time and are very excited about preschool. Lydia did pee her pants during the 30 minutes I was away from her, but no one seemed to notice and it could have been #2 so I still consider it a successful morning. I am proud to say that I am now a fully oriented preschool parent. My google calendar has already been labeled with our assigned snack days (no oats or processed cheese--apparently someone has an allergy--so does that rule out goldfish and cheese nips?  if so then I'm out of ideas), what days they are to wear red/purple/pink,  parent teacher conference dates (yes, it starts even in preschool!) and the themes for the next several weeks (welcome to preschool, apples, chicka chicka boom boom, are a few in case you are wondering).  Now that I'm over the mini emotional roller coster of  our orientation to preschool, I'm looking forward to kicking back with Benson and some coffee at the starbucks that is around the corner from the preschool (some people pick their schools for the academics, i pick them for their proximity to a coffee shop) for approximately 2.5 hours or until they call me that one of the twins pooped their pants whichever comes first. Stay tuned for pics.

I am not a stay at home mom but since my job is in the evenings I kind of live the stay at home life in the mornings. Meaning that I am available to take my kids to various story times, mommy and me sing classes, a colorful parachute class, an organized playgroup, etc.  However, availability does not translate into actually doing these things. I have guilt at times that I don't enroll my kids in this or that, or that I don't plan my week around various kid festivals happening in the city.  OK, we do go to story time about once a week but really it is because it is next door to the breakfast restaurant we are supremely addicted to, it gives us 45 minutes of happy kid time, and the parental involvement/silliness factor is at a minimum at this particular one (don't get me wrong, I like to belt out the ABCs and baby beluga with the best of them, just on my own terms, not in a room full of mommies and toddlers under the direction of a lady wearing a themed cardigan and banging a tamborine).  So, when I saw in our local paper that an event called "Touch a Truck" was going on in our town, I thought I would try to be a good mom and brave this event with my brood of 3 under 3.

BAD IDEA

This is how it all went down:

I first spent a good 30-45 minutes preparing. I had snacks, water bottles, sunglasses, sunscreen, hats, diapers, etc.  I buckled everyone in their carseats and then wrestled our giant all terrain double stroller into the mini van. I was sweaty before we even left the driveway!  Oh, and I forgot to mention that this was during a record setting heat wave.  Despite my perspiration, everything seemed to be going as planned. When we were driving up to the event it seemed like it was going to be great. They had everything you could imagine--a schoolbus (super novel to a 2 year old), a garbage truck, semi trucks, fire trucks, police cars, a public bus, diggers, a helicopter and many more. Even the senior center bus that takes the local retirees to Marcs :).  From the comfort of our air conditioned van we were all a twitter about the various machinery we were about to witness up close. And then, with a pleasant little beep beep beep the van door slid open, the humidity crashed in, and it was all downhill from there. The first speedbump was that we had to park across the street from the event and walk. No biggie. I just dragged out my trusty stroller (did I already mention it's giant?), strapped Ben into my Bjorn (I have not sprung for a triple stroller) and off we went. I thought things would better once we got into the action, but imagine if you will, every large truck or vehicle known to man, and then imagine these vehicles with three year olds behind the wheel--what do you think every three year old wants to do?  HONK THE HORN!  So every truck was honk, honk, honking which is apparently much scarier when you are two years old and two feet in front of a semi truck or a fire truck. Lydia started crying right from the get go that it was too loud and she wanted to go home. Grace looked a little freaked out but still was curious so we tried the public bus first. How much interest could there be in that one? A lot apparently. The twins hopped out of the stroller and went to get onto the bus but there were people streaming both on and off the bus so they were quickly lost in the shuffle. In the end they were both crying and I had a twin under each arm with my 5 month old strapped to my front while trying to get off of a COTA bus.  We tried the garbage truck next (don't worry it was spiffy clean). Grace did eventually make it to the front of the line and was able to turn the wheel (and honk it of course) but it was anticlimactic at best. My last ditch effort was the helicopter. Lydia cried through it all then wanted to be held, so I plopped B (who was being very tolerant despite the fact that he was in the direct sunlight and strapped to a hot, sweaty human) in the stroller and perched a tearful Lydia on my sweaty hip. When she realized she had given up a prime seat to her brother the wails got even louder. Somehow, we survived the trek back to the car. We were a hot mess-- with hair plastered to our heads, our Tshirts sweat soaked and faces tearstained (not mine yet, but almost). I cranked the AC("thank  you God for air conditioning" is a common line in their bedtime prayers) promised the girls smoothies of their choice at home, and we high tailed it out of the masses of kids and the moms with more patience and ambition than myself.  The girls ended up having a stellar morning playing in our basement playroom . . . which is probably what we should have done in the first place :)