We have survived the ninth day of school. This is a significant day. “Holiday” isn’t the word I would use for this day. “Anti-holiday” maybe? It is nationally recognized, almost never advertised, it is privately acknowledged, it is certainly not celebrated. I call this day “Oh S#%T! There is not one single clean pair of underwear in this house!” day.

Two weeks ago was the first day of school! The girls had bright shiny backpacks, sharp crayons and pretty dresses. We hit that day hard, like champions. The girls were ready thirty minutes before they were set to depart. We posed them in front of the house, wearing their shiny backpacks and holding a “First Day of [insert grade here]” sign. We obsessively hugged them and dropped them off. Annie dabbed a tear as our baby dutifully hung her backpack in her little tiny “locker”. Annie’s tears quickly dried when we met up with a few other parents and had breakfast and bloody marys. It was a great day, we were all so bright-eyed and perky, we were all so ready to take on this school year.

Then reality set in. This week will be different than the others, Regina has an extra day of school this week. We need to reschedule Lydia’s dance class. They are extending cheerleading practice? Let’s shift supper back an hour. Don’t forget, we have to work the farmer’s markets! And the football game has been moved to a different location? Where? Let’s ask someone. Hello fellow parent! Do you have any idea what’s going on here? Oh! You’re just as clueless as us?

Hours later, after that kinda confusing game, we stood, hands on our hips, taking deep breaths. Week one was complete. We made it! Yay! The house seems a little messy, doesn’t it? No Time! We need to go to that thing with the thing.

Week one was the shock to the system. The press conference for that week began with “Mistakes were made…” Sure, there were some not-so-shiny moments, but now we know! Let’s just tweak a couple things. There! Fixed! During week one, we held on for dear life. Week two, that’s where we find a rhythm, find a system. We knew what to expect. That will be when we kick butt. Week two was nearly the same onslaught. My tweaks did not account for a traffic jam in the city. To that end, my tweaks failed to even recognize rush hour. (Mistakes were made…again). Oh yeah! Regina did NOT have school on Friday (so glad I noticed that on Thursday evening!). Okay, so I have her on Friday. Maybe I can get something done in the morning, all I need is for her to sleep in…or to NOT sleep in! Good morning sweetie! Good freaking morning (Oh come on! Really?). She was overtired, cranky and whiney. Furthermore she has gained a new sense of confidence since starting school. And she wanted to flex these new-found muscles. As if she wasn’t stubborn and willful enough before she began school.

Since that first day of school we have endured two cheerleading practices, a cheerleading photo shoot, a cheerleading performance, six ballet classes, six markets, one gig, a Baptism Party, a Class Reunion and a film shoot. Annie and I have been in a dozen huddles, Annie and I have been in couple huddles with other parents. We endured school drop-offs, school pick-ups, Lydia not being able to log-in to her school-issued laptop (tears). Everyone, including me, had at least one hysterical emotional meltdown at some point.

Remember how the place looked a bit messy after week one? Now it looks like we’re a couple days in to fighting a poltergeist. Nothing, absolutely nothing is where it belongs. I winced in pain and lifted my foot to discover a tiny plastic guitar had been left on the floor. “Where’d this come from?”

“The floor dummy!”

“What I meant was…”

“I know what you meant. It’s Reggie’s birthday gift, Polly Pockets are back in style. That’s the rock n roll dance party set. You ought to know. You assembled it for her.”

I shrugged, “Well, a minute ago that guitar was sharp. Now . . . it’s flat. Get it?”

“Yeah…I get it.”

“Dad Joke!” I cackled as I limped away to avoid getting something thrown at me.

We were up to the second Saturday of the school year. I was in my pajamas, sipping my coffee, staring out our front window. It would have made a great Instagram image, if the subject was narcissistic young and fit, and not a forty-something grown man with five o’clock shadow, a mild case of Dad-Bod and a ratty tattered tee shirt. I had just sent Lyd up to take her shower.

Annie asked me, “so what will she be wearing after that shower?”

“I dunno. Clothing?” I reflected on the past two weeks and thought about glaciers. Glaciers may move slowly, but they never stop moving. I tend to think that folks who become a little too comfortable living near a glacier, will someday find their house getting crushed, same thing applies to laundry. “When was the last time I did laundry?” I asked myself.

“A few days ago I think.” Annie answered. (Apparently I did not ask myself that question)

I thought about getting comfortable with glaciers and getting comfortable with forgetting to do the laundry. I thought about piles of laundry versus stacks of laundry, “I don’t think we have any underwear left.”

“No we don’t.” Annie replied, “I told you that this would be a problem a few days ago.”

“But I did laundry a few days ago!”

“Yet…here we are.”

Week three…bring it on.