A couple weeks ago we started looking for alternate arrangements for childcare for the RaJenBabies.  This was because the other place we had planned to put them, THE PLACE WE SECURED TWO SPOTS FOR IN FEBRUARY, flaked out again, delaying our entry date.  Plans for their expansion were on hold pending city inspections and no one from the infant room had become mobile enough to move up to the next class BLAH! BLAH! BLAH!  

Change of plans?  The thing you planned isn’t what will actually happen?  We said we’d be there at 10:30 and didn’t get there until 10:50?  WITH TWINS, CURVE BALLS ARE SO PREDICTABLE.  

We got on the phone, made a couple calls, and suddenly, two places that had waiting lists a year long in January had two entries available.  A lot can change in seven months. The third place, the one we really wanted, wasn’t open so we got on a waiting list there.  Could be one month, could be ten, but that’s ultimately where we’ll move them. And let me go off on a branch of tangents here and say that, unlike what I previously thought, Waiting Lists are not just for those rich New York people, the one’s whose nannies are banging the unfaithful husband’s on Law & Order SVU.  No, those waiting lists happen for regular people like us, middle of the middle-class typical two-mom family in a urban area, trying to get into what I’m pretty sure is your average school.

One of the two places that had availability was a Montessori school. It took some reading up on, but, for example Montessori schools don’t use sippy cups. As soon as the babies are big enough to sit on their own, that they teach the little ones to drink from a regular open-topped cup and eat at a little table instead of on high chairs.  As I weighed aloud the pros and cons of the two schools with my mother, she said it sounded like the Montessori school wasn’t going to let the babies be babies. My thought was any inkling of order and self-confidence and independence would be beneficial in our household.  So guess where we enrolled them.

Monday, July 28, was the first day at Montessori School for the RaJenBabies.  I started preparing on Saturday.  Picked their clothes out for the week to make mornings easier.  Packed blankets, towels, burp cloths.  Extra clothes.  Bottles.  Formula.  Water.  Labeled everything.  Monday morning, with the help of our night nanny, they were dressed and fed and ready to go at 7 a.m.  Matou and I got everything in the car.  I brought my camera.  

OF COURSE.  

And we even remembered the babies.  

We got to the school and took them to their new room to meet the teachers.  Then we did all our security paperwork, pictures, and paid the monthly mortgage on the 5,000 square foot summer home on Lake LBJ tuition through September 1.  The babies were smiling and happy.  Which in turn made us smiley and happy.  So leaving them there wasn’t terribly emotional. It helped that Matou and I were both there together.

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At 9:30 a.m., the phone in my office rang and I could see from the caller-ID that it was the school.  And my immediate thought was Oh, Shit, They Threw Up Again And We’re Getting Kicked Out.  I picked up and said “is everything ok?  The kids are ok?”  And the teacher said “Oh, they are fine.  But….ummmmm….did you pack them any diapers?”

That’s right, Internet. I remembered the Camera but forgot the diapers! I had prepared a box with 50 diapers, a big ‘ol bin of Boudreaux’s Butt Paste, and ten bibs. AND LEFT IT BY THE GARAGE DOOR.

No, we usually just keep them in the same one all day is what I didn’t say because I figured they didn’t know me well enough to be subjected to my Smartassitis condition. MAYBE TOMORROW.  

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