Week in Review: Back to School.

It's been a while since I've given a decent week in review. And this, being our first almost-full week of school, has been a busy one.

The new kindergartner, Crowbar, still loves going to the big-kid school. However, on Wednesday of this week, he asked if he could take a break and stay home. As much as we'd like to oblige so we could all take a break, we sent him off on the big yellow bus.

He still sits in the backseat with the 5th graders, by the way.

The twins, Mad Dog and The Deuce, newly minted fifth graders, are back in the groove and I can tell an increase in maturity this year from last. They don't groan at homework time and are able to get themselves dressed, cleaned up and breakfasted (or perhaps breakfed?) without much if any assistance.

Something new this year is that they're way more into their looks than before. Not as in an "I'm So Vain, I Really Wrote This Song About Me" way -- but more in a they actually prefer to leave the house with hair brushed and deodorant applied.

I'm doing my best to teach them good habits and to care (without overly caring) about their looks. This is tough for someone whose never considered herself a girlie girl. I never learned how to do a decent braid -- nor really cared to -- or spent my hard-earned money (made as a 15 year-old cashier at the local sub shop) at the mall. I had friends who worked at the Clinique counter so they could be closer to Deb (remember the pink shag carpet?) and get a discount on makeup.

Only my brothers were in the house during those preteen years. My sister was already off to college, so instead of adopting her great fashion habits, which at the time included blue mascara, I adopted a self-care philosophy that more resembled that of my ape-like brothers. (But that's a story for another time -- or perhaps therapy.)

Anyhow, back to my point. I'm trying to teach them proper skin care, hair care and...well... to just plain care about if they smell like longshoremen or not.

Then, there's the new back-to-school schedule...

Mark and I made a plan last year to offset our work hours so one of us could see the kids off on the bus in the morning and the other could intercept the crew after school. This was in effort to eliminate the before/after school care fees that were near $800 a month.

So Mark took the early shift (with the kids) and I take the late one. It's his job to get the troops up and off to school -- a job made easier once he applied some of what he learned in the Air Force. The kids line up when he calls out, "FRONT AND CENTER" and grab their backpacks and lunch boxes when he gives the "GEAR UP" command.

My late shift involves getting everyone an after-school snack, started on homework and making dinner. In truth, I love getting home early. I'm no longer fighting the clock to fit everything in at night -- especially since we can mostly finish eating by 6:30 p.m. (It used to be more like 7:30.)

The thing I'm having trouble with though is my 6:30 a.m. start time. It wasn't as bad last year when I could fuel up on several cups of coffee, but now, being 7 months pregnant, my caffeine intake is severely limited. I can have a small cup -- half a mug -- tops.

On top of it, I'm unsure how I'm going to manage this gawd-awful early shift after a sleepless night with a newborn, but we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it.

In the past, my weeks in review contained Mom's Tolerability Index, a graphic which measured the awfulness of the week in boxes of Franzia.

Seeing as I haven't enjoyed a box (or two) of vino in several months, I need a new unit of measure.

Pints of Moosetracks ice cream?
4-packs of chocolate pudding cups?

I've got to think about that one for a while.