School started the day after Labor Day this year in our state. All the good moms of Maryland spent Labor Day grocery shopping, lovingly preparing the next day’s lunches, putting all of the school supplies in an easy-to-carry tote bag by the door, laying out first day outfits and shoes (probably all brand new), making sure the camera had a memory card for all the pictures, cooking a lovely supper and special dessert to celebrate the last day of summer break, reading long stories and spending extra time snuggling their precious babies into bed.

I was on a beach with a cooler of cheap beer.

Call me crazy, but the weather was gorgeous, and I wanted to celebrate the last day of summer break by swimming in the E. coli infested Chesapeake Bay. It was really a beautiful evening spent with neighbor friends, watching our kids play and splash in the water, listening to country music.

My kids ate leftover meatballs for dinner. Reheated balls of meat. Nothing else. They had quick baths that left piles of sand in the tub, then we threw them into their beds and collapsed into our own.

The next morning I overslept. Shocking, I know. Nothing was prepared. I hadn’t even gone grocery shopping. Oops. All that week prior when I saw moms posting about their gradual approach to early rising and morning routine I had scoffed. Now I desperately wished I had somehow prepared my children for the chaos of breakfast/brush teeth/get dressed/make lunch/put on shoes/get out the door and STOP WRESTLING WITH YOUR BROTHER! My 8yo was crying because he couldn’t find the first day of school outfit he wanted to wear. My 4yo had on a shirt that said BUDAPEST.  I don’t even know where that is. I was scrambling to slap together nutritious lunches from the sparse contents of my fridge and pantry. My mom stopped by to see the kids off and she walked into a circus. She immediately jumped in to help, thank God, because we definitely would have missed the bus if she hadn’t. Hey you know when’s a good time for a toddler to take a steamy diaper dump? When you’re trying to find one of the 8yo’s shoes 5 minutes before the bus is supposed to arrive.

We got out the door with enough time to take a couple pictures, which was when I noticed that my 8yo’s shirt was on backwards and he had peanut butter all over his shorts. Because who uses a napkin or towel when you can just wipe your hands on your pants?

We fixed the shirt and wiped the peanut butter off his pants just in time for the bus to come rumbling down our street. I leaned into the bus’ open door and asked the crotchety old driver if she felt refreshed after her summer break. “Yeah I’m a regular spring flower,” she responded drily. I love her.

With the 8yo safely on the bus (minus his school supplies–whoops), my mom went on her way and I buckled the 2yo and 4yo in the minivan and headed for pre-K. Earlier that morning when my 8yo mentioned to my 2yo that both the older two would be going to school that day, the 2yo threw a fit. I didn’t realize how strongly he felt about getting to go to school too until it was time to say goodbye to the 4yo. As I hugged her and encouraged her to join her classmates in saying grace, and I felt that familiar lump rise in my throat, my 2yo yelled, “No, ME!” He ran to the tables where the children were saying, “God is great, God is good…,” locked his gaze on me and screamed at the top of his lungs. I tried to stay calm and explain to him that Mommy had a fun day planned for us, but the situation very quickly deteriorated. My son was on the ground, alternately screaming “ME SCHOOL,” and just screaming. I tried to pick him up but he kicked at me. So I snatched him up by a leg and held him, his back against my chest, and tried to get out of the room while he bucked, tried to head butt me, kicked at the door and ripped papers off the door as we went through it. By the time we got into the hallway he was screaming so loudly, people were coming out of the other classrooms to see what was going on. He threw his shoes at me. He threw the large glass marble he was carrying at the glass classroom door. I honestly don’t even remember how I got him out of the building. I think I blacked out, but I do remember that I was laughing the whole time. I mean, this is a sweet kid I’m talking about here. The love of my life. My baby boy. He had never displayed that kind of behavior before. He just really wanted to be with his sister. It was adorable. And hilarious.

Once I got him outside he wedged himself between a brick pillar and a mop bucket and refused to budge. I sat on the ground with him and waited patiently for him to calm down. I thought about how fortunate it was that his tantrum kept me from crying when we left my daughter.  When he was finally calm enough to come out from his little hiding space, I hugged him super tight and promised that one day he would get to go to school too.  I spent the whole day giving him extra attention and affection.  Maybe by the time he has his first day of school, I’ll have my $&!t together.  But probably not.  Hot Mess is what I do best.