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My mother tells me I liked school right from the start. I must have, because I remember proudly showing her I could count to 100 VERY VERY fast VERY VERY often. Only in the last few years do I understand just how much patience she must have had as the parent of four small children.

My three boys started school last week and - you know what? School is no longer fun for me. Oh, they love it. I, on the other hand, feel like that person in the movies who accidentally pushes the treadmill to 10mph and after desperately hanging on for a mere 5 seconds, flies off the back end.

All three are in school for the first time but as my oldest graduated from junior high to high school, they're now spread across two schools with two different start times and three different end times. While the youngest is in All Day Kindergarten, he gets out an hour earlier than grades 3-8 which doesn't really make it All Day Kindergarten, does it? And might explain why no one was there to pick him up at the bus stop the end of his first day. I took that day off to help make it special. Special doesn't even begin to describe how he'll remember the day. Now, he has a great story to tell everyone about how Mommy and Daddy forgot him and how the bus took him all the way back to school so they could call his parents. Cool thing is the bus driver has since shown him extra attention because she thinks his parents are complete idiots.

I have had homework every night. The list of my failings is embarrassingly longer than I'll list here but thought a taste of the past week was in order:

#1 - The physical Josh needed for football, which the doctor suggested I not wait until August to schedule, took place at 7pm one night last week at an Urgent Care two days after football practice began.

#2 - At 8pm the night of the 3rd day of football practice, my son tells me I forgot to attach his birth certificate to his football paperwork and he must bring it in the next day or miss the first game. I read those papers. There was no mention of requiring his birth certificate. To be honest, I'm not sure I know where it is. We moved two years ago and I haven't needed it since. Three and a half hours later I find it in the pile of stuff that will one day be his baby book. I'll have time to get to that when he's 40.

#3 - This past Sunday, Jeremy tells me he needs a saxophone by Wednesday morning or he'll be dropped from band. Frankly, I was not aware he had joined band. I get the saxophone the next night.

#4 - Ryan was locked out of his classroom one morning because he wanted to follow Jeremy from the bus to Jeremy's classroom to "check on him". His older brother took him back in the direction of his proper classroom three times before finally ditching him on the playground like a stray puppy who won't leave. Spent a half an hour instructing Ryan on his morning routine at school.

#5 - Fifteen minutes after Josh has left for school on his bike, he calls me. Actually, it went like this: As I'm waking Ryan (late) and telling him to get dressed, my cell phone rings. I race to the other side of the house and miss the call. The home phone rings and as I'm hunting for it I miss the call. I see it was Josh and call him back. No answer. My cell phone rings and then stops. I call Josh back two more times. No answer. The home phone rings and I answer (YAY!). "Mom, can you bring me my bike lock? I forgot.". (Not YAY). I race the bike lock to Josh and make it back with two minutes to spare before dragging the other two boys to the bus stop.

That was the first week. This is the second. I'm breathing better this morning. I think we're through the worst. I have Ryan's morning routine down to 15 minutes. As we're walking (finally, not running) to the bus stop this morning, he says "Shoot. I forgot to wear yellow." Only then does he explain they're to wear a certain color each day this week. That would explain why there was a color noted for each day of this week on his planner. I somehow remember today said yellow and tomorrow said red. I glance down at my adorable five year old in his red shirt and khaki and red shorts and throw my hands up in the air. I no longer like school at all.

The only person who picks on me because of my car is not a Facebook friend. I have a pretty interesting job in a unique segment of the automotive industry. However, Mr. Meticulous Car Guy cannot understand how or why - being in this industry - I could be content driving my old, noise-making, half-beaten car. I'm quite proud of the fact that I've just rolled past 119,000 miles and I'm actually looking forward to 120,000. And now, my windshield is cracked. It's a common phenomenon in Arizona during the summer. You know - it gets a little hot here. And I just can't seem to make fixing it a priority. It's not like it's in my line of sight or anything. The crack doesn't diminish my ability to get around. It doesn't draw tons of attention to itself. My car spends half of its day in my driveway with its nose hidden against the front of my house and the other half of its day hidden in the underground parking at work. I don't care what people think if they see me driving along with a crack on the passenger side of my windshield. I do kind of, however, regret not having taken up the offer at the carwash for someone to repair the star in my windshield that eventually became a full blown crack....

My tooth cracking, on the other hand, was another issue. My tooth cracked and I still can't believe it. Losing a tooth is my recurring nightmare. If any of you have ever had a nightmare or a theme that keeps showing up in your dreams over and over, you'll understand. Losing my teeth is a big one as is driving off a bridge and I've driven off several in my dreams. So, for my tooth to crack and a piece to fall out creeped me out! THAT I fixed right away although it's still weird. I've never had a root canal or a cap or a crown and now there's a piece of porcelain in my mouth trying to pass itself off as my own tooth. It doesn't feel like my others, it hasn't been through the same experiences as my other teeth. It didn't push its way past the baby teeth I was born with and fight for its spot in the lineup. It wasn't involved in the ice-chewing phases of my pregnancies. It's softer and rounder and slightly larger, not worn by time and use. It will never fit in with the others and, to tell you the truth, I think I'm actually carrying a grudge against the crown itself.

Of course, as I write this, I'm kind of glad I lost a part of a tooth instead of finding myself driving off a bridge. Hey, maybe that's why I love living in Phoenix. We have seriously few bridges for me to worry about. Now that I think about it, I'm feeling better about the tooth already.

I just had a first peek - and I mean peek, just a glimpse, a matter of seconds - about what it will be like when my children become adults responsible for their own lives and I didn't like it one bit.

He's my firstborn and 14 years old. He's an amazing kid. Funny, charming, sweet and responsible. He does his chores and his homework without being asked. He loves to help and he loves his brothers. He thinks his grandparents are cool and he stays in touch with them on his own. He gets great grades and I couldn't be more proud.

He starts highschool this year and, despite - or because of? - the recent, blazing, laser-beam like focus on girls and friends, he's determined to play football. Desert summers are less than ideal practice conditions for any sport so kids must be shipped out of town for pre-season training or they'll turn to dust on the field in the 110+ degree heat. So, I signed him up for the school's football camp, a weekend away in Prescott, AZ, with the rest of the high-school team. We spent a week planning what to take. I figured he'd want cell phone, iPod, and money along with the basic equipment. It was a pretty educated guess. These are the things he must have in his possession all day, every day. I know he sleeps with his cell phone because he rolled over in bed one night and his cell phone called mine at 2:30am. To my surprise, he said no to all three. Cell phone and iPod could be stolen, advised his friends, and there's no chance to spend money. Not that the outing didn't cost me. We spent hours one night getting all the right gear, and snacks (G2 and wheat thins??) and finding a bag big enough to hold it all.

I dropped him off at the school an hour early on Friday because his friends texted him that they were already there. After circling the high school, I found them. Four tall, young men with pillows and blankets and hefty gym bags. They looked so grown up. Josh quickly said goodbye, grabbed his gear from the back of the car and joined his friends as they headed into the gym.

I waited and watched him walk into the school because that's what mothers do. We're always waiting and watching. You know, in case he needs me because he's always needed me. And he always looks back and waves and he used to blow me a million kisses until my husband would complain that he was going to be a mama's boy his whole life. But I knew he would grow out of it. Rarely do you see a 30 year old man waving like a 2 year old and blowing kisses to his mother. And I was right. Because, as I sat there outside the high school watching him head in with his friends and waiting for the traditional wave and a kiss, he never looked back.

Photo used under Creative Commons from mari cho.