However, to put things in perspective, it was not a horrible day. I’ve had worse. Also, thanks to my husband, I can’t help but think having a good day = didn’t have to use my AK. So if we’re going to use that standard, well…I don’t know. Let’s just not use that standard. Because overall I’m not a fan of today.

It was the first day of school–the first day of school the first year that all four of my children would be in full-day school–so it ought to have been a beautiful day. Yeah, I know, I was just blogging on Saturday about how I was all paranoid about school starting and worried and everything, but I do that so I can be pleasantly surprised when things turn out fine. I do not expect destiny to start messing with my reverse psychology. That’s just so unfair. Anyway. I didn’t sleep well–which was to be expected–but I got up and I made lunches for people despite the fact that there wasn’t much in the house to work with. (I didn’t feel like shopping this weekend. Shrug.) At 7 a.m. My husband drove Princess Zurg over to her friend’s house so they could walk to school together. (I just realized that sounds like an odd thing to do. I’ll explain later. Maybe.) Then he drove back home so he could wait with Elvis for Elvis’s bus while I took Girlfriend to school. I think at this point Mister Bubby was barely awake because he doesn’t have to get on the bus until 8:30, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I took Girlfriend to school. It was, of course, a madhouse. And not a good sort of madhouse, like you might think of when you think of your gentle Giraffe. It was definitely a bad madhouse. An appalling asylum. I cleverly avoided the parking lot nightmare by leaving the car a couple blocks away and walking in. That was the end of feeling smart about myself because that was around the time I realized that I’d left all her school supplies in a tidy bad by the front door. Of my house. Not a front door that would have been accessible by the time I realized that was where they still were. Anyway, that’s not the end of the world by any stretch. It just seems like the end of the world when there’s the population of a small country in a much tinier elementary school and you find yourself in desperate need of a paper bag to breathe in and out of because THERE ARE SO MANY PEOPLE AND NOT ENOUGH HALLWAY AND WE FOUGHT OUR WAY INTO THE CLASSROOM ONLY TO FIND OUT THAT WE MISSED THE BRAND-NEW BACKPACK HOOKS IN THE HALLWAY AND WE HAVE TO FIGHT OUR WAY BACK OUT OF THE CLASSROOM AND THEN BACK INTO THE CLASSROOM AND EVERYONE’S PUTTING AWAY SCHOOL SUPPLIES AND I DON’T HAVE ANNNNNNYYYYYYY AND I DON’T WANT TO COME BACK HERE EVER AGAIN DID I MENTION THERE ARE 37 FIRST GRADERS IN THIS CLASSROOM????

At that particular moment, it’s fair to say that I was missing some perspective. You really had to be there IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SEA OF BODIES DID I MENTION I’M AN INTROVERT THE HUMANITYYYYYYYY!

I narrowly escaped a panic attack. And the school. Eventually.

You won’t believe this, but I actually drove back home, got the school supplies and went back in. There were much fewer people there by that time. Technically I should have gotten a Visitor badge since the school day had officially started, but I just went to the classroom without one because I didn’t want to bother the secretaries, and also without my Valium I was feeling very transgressive.

Somewhere in the middle of this drama Mister Bubby got on the bus. He even made a new friend. (A neighbor kid who just moved in around the corner. Mister Bubby is charmed that way.)

Around 11 a.m. I was on the phone with the dentist, securing a sweet after-school appointment for Princess Zurg next week, and when I got off the phone there was a voice mail message blinking at me, so I listened to the voice mail and quelle coincidence, it was PZ…wailing that she hated high school and wanted to come home. Well. What does one do with that? Do I call the high school and say, “Hey there, you don’t know me from the man in the moon, but my daughter you might have noticed screaming her head off into one of the phones you have on campus–any way to track her down for me…?” Or do you just let it go and figure there are professionals there who can handle the situation?

I’m sorry to say that I chose Door #2. Well, what I’m really sorry to say is that a half hour later I got another call from an actual school professional describing the situation to me, and I spent the next 40 minutes or so on the phone with him and with her and with him again and her again, and not once did I come up with a solution to anyone’s problems.

I once went to a motivational talk by the authors of a book called “I Don’t Have To Make It All Better.” Let me tell you, those people were lovely, but they were liars. I do have to make it all better. I just can’t. That’s the problem.

My other problem is it’s late and I still have to do my unwinding for the evening, with therapeutic doses of chocolate and totally legitimate prescription drugs. Will I have more to say about this tomorrow? Maybe.

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