I waltz down the staircase.
Their footsteps follow close behind.
Lovely pink dress pressed and ready for the day ahead, with white sandals tightened and clean. Her braids flop with each step, as her little sister follows close behind. The full skirt on her dress, bouncing up and down just as her little body does.
Into the kitchen, we walk. They sit down at the table with breakfast sitting on each place mat. Vitamins, popped into open mouths, as I finish pouring glasses of orange juice.
"Thanks Mom!" they respond in unison.
I take a minute to smile then respond, "You're welcome my lovies. Eat up and then we'll take some pictures before school."
"Okay" Mo says, "I'm so excited for school today."
Finishing their breakfast quickly, cleanly, and with little hesitation, they walk their empty plates and glasses to the sink.
"Head out and get your backpack Mo!" I instruct. "Maeve go with your sister and we'll take your pictures for the first day."
Cleaning up their dishes, I hear the cadence of Bryan's footsteps as he bounds down the stairs. Finishing we meet together near the front door.
Mo holds the sign as the smile fills her face. She poses alone, then with her sister, as Bry eagerly snaps photo after photo of our two delightful little ladies.
Glancing at the clock, I notice we have ten minutes, and suggest we head out.
Into the minivan we pile, excited smiles shared between Moira and Maeve, as we travel the short distance to school.
Interlocking their arms, the girls walk a few paces ahead as Bry and I follow into the open doors, as we prepare ourselves for the first day of four year old preschool.
How was that for a first day?
Fiction, I say.
It's all fiction!
This year, the calm, the peacefulness, the joy, I would typically associate with back to school was missing in our home. In it's place, plenty of chaos, screams, and even a few tears.
It wasn't pretty.
It wasn't fun.
It wasn't anything I would put in the "proud category".
It's real life like that.
We did make it out the door on time, the only aspect of the above piece that was true.
I did get a picture before we scrambled out the door.
before the start of school.
The pink dress, the braids, and the white sandals were ready for the first day of school.
Mo was not.
I do this to myself, my kids, and my husband. I make myself crazy worried about silly little details and then rush around like a chicken with my head cut off attempting to play the role of perfect wife and mom.
Confession here, I'm not the perfect mom.
I scream too much.
I curse too much.
My patience is thinner than it should be.
My time as mom shouldn't be all chaos and running around with a camera in my hand, yelling at my husband and kids. It shouldn't be rushing out the door checking the clock, in panic mode. It shouldn't make my brow furrowed and my blood boil.
These moments happen but once.
For me, luckily the memory of that crappy first morning before preschool was soon forgotten, as two lovely teachers swiftly whisked Mo away into her classroom. The morning continued to improve with photos of the first day in the hall.
So maybe the first day sign wasn't there, but did it matter?
No. Not at all. Take that pinterest.
Instead of the forced, rushed pose, I got that real smile I melt over. That excited, giddy, joyous face of a kid excited for her first day of school.
That's what I need to remember. Bring out that smile, not the forced one Jac, because that's what she'll remember.
That's what she'll model.
That's what they need.
Linking up with Shell, and her fabulously cathartic Things I Can't Say meme.