I Survived and I Didn't Get a T-Shirt

Yesterday was Josh's first day of preschool. This is his second year going to this preschool. Although, his first day of school took much more out of me than Megan's first day.

It all starts and ends with outfit choice. Megan still asks each day what I want her to wear (bless her heart). Josh does not. In fact, if I suggest an outfit for Josh, it will be the last thing he chooses to wear. He often digs his outfits out of the hamper. You see, he's particular, but not picky. Stains and smells don't bother him. He doesn't mind if you can see yesterdays menu on his shirt.

His favorite outfit of choice for the summer is a red little mismatched number. He likes to wear the red with navy stripes jersey basketball shirt with red and black striped silky soccer shorts. (Except for the weeks we spent in Utah when I packed only one of the outfits therefore forcing a matching outfit). He has spent the majority of the summer in this pairing. On the days I insist on washing the outfit, he usually ends up in last years favorite green t-shirt. I've tried to work through my Type A shudders and allow my boy to be a boy...on days that don't matter.

The first day of school matters. It's a photo op day. It is also a first impression day. That matters to my Type A personality. So I strapped on my mommy knowledge and went into offensive mode the night before: I hid the red outfits and any other clothing options that did not meet first day of school approval. I placed several outfits together in his drawer and allowed him to make a choice on what to wear. Result: a 25 minute stand-off.

Did I mention I'm Type A? This means that there is not room in my morning schedule, nor patience to deal with a stand-off. There were no flailing arms or loud noises. It was just plain and simple a stand-off. He refused to make a choice. He sat in his pajamas, arms folded. I tried to continue on with the girls and hair-do's and breakfast and lunches and tuition checks and every 5 minutes would come back and check on him. That's when the level of frustration would rise as I would find him still in his pajamas saying, "but Mom...".

Finally I told him I got to make the choice if he wasn't dressed the next time I came back. And when he wasn't dressed that next time, I picked out an outfit, to which he predictably said "No" and then made a choice. Breathe in...Breathe out.

At this point, there was not time for him to sit down and eat breakfast. He had to take it to go. Luckily it's a 10 minute drive across town, after dropping Megan off at school. We had plenty of time to eat and like each other again.

Photos were reserved for the front of the preschool that day and no photos were taken in front of our house. I could have used a dad that day. Scott was down in L.A. receiving texts from me talking about "his son" and something about me going nuts.

In the meantime, this is what was left in the car...

...a very sad and lonely little girl.

As we drove away, I thought about how nice it was to have time with just Brooke...and then I remembered that I was pregnant and our alone time together is going to be short lived.