From zero to 60 (600? 6,000???) in one week

I know, I know. I dreamed of this week. Waited somewhat (OK, incredibly) impatiently for it. Begged time to move faster so it would get here already. Came damn near close to going completely off my rocker in my quest for the beginning of the school year and its' accompanying organized activities, truth be told. And I am happy that the time has finally come and delighted to have some semblance of a schedule again.

So I am really not complaining. But I must... observe that this has been one hell of a week. School drop offs and pick ups, dance class, swimming, Evan's music class, all of the errands I have been delaying until I would have only one child in tow... I'm pretty sure I've slid behind the wheel of my car no less than 29 times since Monday. I have no sense of continuity or schedule yet, just a constant pit in my stomach and a feeling like I've taken way too many amphetamines. I'm continually rushing, rushing, rushing because oh my God, it's time for (fill in the blank here). And I'm slowly recognizing that while I will eventually learn the schedule and the knot in my belly will presumably lessen, the rushing will not. Nor will the chauffeuring. Not until next August. And possibly not even then. Possibly not until Julia gets her drivers' license in 2019.

Julia seems to be taking the new school year in stride. Every day at school this week has been "great," ditto dance and swimming. Evan's a little more confused by it all and spends the majority of every morning asking "A Doodah?" over and over again. When we finally pick her up each day, he tackles her with hugs and kisses, jabbering "I Doodah" over and over again was he pats her happily. But today, when he finally for the first time in his life got my undivided attention in music class, I thought he was just going to explode with joy. So he, too, is going to be fine.

Me? I'm definitely having bigger transition issues than my kids. Like a preschooler who dreamed of big kid school only to find herself completely overwhelmed when her desires became reality, I've been tempted quite a few times this week to sit myself down and have a good cry. I haven't, though. Because then I'd be late for pick up. Or drop off. Or something else I've completely forgotten about until we're embarrassingly late. No time for tears. September is finally here, and like all things I foolishly put too much stake in waiting for, it has arrived with a vengeance.