My kids started riding the school bus this week, and I am pretty proud of myself for not being the parent that jumped in her car and drove behind that bus all the way to school, just to make sure they were safe. My husband actually did want to to this, and I restrained him by making fun of the idea, the same idea I would never admit I also had.
Shame. It’s what makes a marriage strong.
There are some very cool older girls that get on at the same stop – cool as in, self-possessed and charming and kind, not Disney tween cool, which makes me a feel a lot better about the trip, because I think they are unofficially looking out for the little ones on the bus. You know who isn’t self-possessed, charming, and kind at 7:30 in the morning? Me. And I already know how this bus stop thing is going to go down, because my kids were in PreK last year, and we had to drive them to school. On the first day of PreK drop-off, I had on a cute (and clean!) outfit, a lovely pair of bright pink suede flats, a sharp-looking handbag that had my wallet and keys and lipstick and business cards in it, and a fresh haircut. I had showered, brushed and flossed, and even the car was freshly washed.
That was the first day. Oh, I sure looked like a mom who had her shit together on day one. Its so easy to look like a mom who has her shit together on day one. I even had a fresh pedicure, despite the fact that nobody would even see my toes, that is how together I was.
By the third day of drop-off, I hadn’t washed my hair since the first day, and I was wearing jeans that I had pulled out of the hamper. A week later and the t-shirt I was wearing as I walked my kids into school was the same one I had been sleeping in the night before. After that, my husband took over drop-off, before I went full-Ursala and made the little children cry when they saw me. As a man, he could wear the same jeans and black t-shirt every single day of his life, and all anybody would ever notice is what a saint that man is for parenting his own children. Men get such a pass.
Twice a day now I trot down to the bus stop to drop off or pick up my kids, and just like last year, on day one I smelled like laundry detergent and Jo Malone and coffee, and had taken the time to slap on some tinted moisturizer and brush my hair. By today, just three days in to this whole bus pick up thing, I was wearing a pair of yoga pants that I had grabbed from a chair in my bedroom and decided to just pretend were clean, and my hair was twisted up into a messy bun held together with a chopstick and a sharpened pencil. Lovely!
I know my limitations. I know that I am going to be out there in a bathrobe, soon, clutching my coffee like a lifeline and squinting at the other parents like some deranged madwoman. I just hope I can pull it off with as much caché as Tea Leoni does. I haven’t stooped to wearing Uggs yet, so maybe there is still hope for me. I mean, I can have good intentions and all, but I’ve met me, and it turns out, she is pretty set in her ways, and really not a morning person, so I have decided to be proactive about the whole situation, and started looking for a really cute bathrobe, just in case.