And Then I Went Into Hyperdrive.
The night before the first day of school has always been hard for me. As a child, I was often “the new kid,” and wandered through the halls on the first day completely alone, feeling like I was wearing a neon sign that said, PLEASE IGNORE ME. I DON’T BELONG HERE.
As a result, of course, I rarely spoke and was subsequently ignored.
And I never slept well on the night before school. I worried that I would be late. I worried that no one would like me. I worried that I would forget something essential, like a pencil. I worried that I would forget how to walk to school or, sometimes, where to catch the bus.
What amazes me is that, at the ripe old age of 55, I still dread the first day – even when I am not going to school!
This year, I thought it might be better. Formerly, I rarely slept, thinking about Dylan’s ADHD and how to keep him organized and on task. But Dylan is in college now, learning how to keep himself on task.
Unfortunately, this is the first year Shane is walking into school on Day One with a diagnosis of OCD.
So I tossed and turned all night, again. Mostly I worried that the OCD would ruin Shane’s day. But I also wondered if he would have friends in his classes, worried about what to make him for breakfast, worried that my alarm wouldn’t go off, thought about what I would put in his lunch, wondered if he was too old for silly notes in his lunchbox.
As a result, I got almost no sleep – as usual – again this year.
And when I woke up, at least an hour before my alarm went off, I tossed and turned until the alarm finally went off. And then I went into hyperdrive – jumped up, brushed teeth, fed dog, made breakfast for Shane, made lunch, put in a special lunchtime note….
For the first time ever, Bill was home for the first day of school. He was leaving town for a week, but at least he was available that morning. Bill had even – jokingly, I thought – considered riding to school with Shane and me. I had considered letting Bill drive Shane to school, since it was the only opportunity he’d ever had to do so.
But when I woke up, as I raced downstairs, I noticed that Bill was still sound asleep. So I planned to take the dog for a walk in the woods after dropping off Shane at school, and prepared accordingly.
I finished packing Shane’s lunch, prepared a special travel cup of chocolate milk, seat-belted the dog into the car and then went back to get the chocolate milk and lunch for Shane, who had forgotten his lunch after a whole summer without a lunchbox.
Just as we were leaving, Bill appeared.
“Mind if I ride with you guys?” he asked.
“Are you kidding?” I answered. I may be a great mom, but I am a terrible wife.
Running on empty, and having done everything to make sure Shane was good-to-go on his first day, I looked at my husband and said, “I’m taking the dog for a walk after I drop him off.”
Then I left the house with Shane and the dog, but without Bill.
There are only two more first-day experiences left – and my guess is, they’ll be sleepless nights and frantic mornings, too. And Bill will go to work, where he belongs, and I won’t feel nearly so guilty for excluding him from this rite of passage.