The first day of school, I was so proud. Maybe even as much as Thalia was. I packed her lunch, I got her fed and dressed in weather appropriate clothes, I walked her down the street singing, I ushered her into the classroom (on time), I kissed her goodbye, I chatted with some parents, I hopped on the subway to work.

A new routine. It was–dare I say it?–fun.

A week later, I got Sage off to school for her first time too. Again: Pride.

Gushing, flowing pride, oozing out of every pore of my body.

But suddenly I’ve come to the crazy realization: I have to do this every freaking day. EVERY FREAKING DAY. No one told me this! How could this be so unexpected?

I have to pack a lunch every day. And find two outfits for them to wear every day. And fight about who gets the pink spoon in the oatmeal every day. And make a sandwich every day. And. And. And.

Exhaustion. Gushing, flowing exhaustion, oozing out of every pore of my body. 

I think I’m just going to sign a stockpile of tardy slips at the office in advance. Might save us some time in the morning.