Alex is back to school today. It is "Silly Day" in honor of Dr. Seues and he is in full silly costume- homemade hat, mismatched socks and shoes, pj's under his T-shirt and pirate pants. In reality, he looks no sillier than he does any other day since he started dressing himself, but this outfit required effort, and I thank Nate's mother for informing us that silly day had arrived... otherwise Alex would have gone to school wearing an Olympic T-shirt and his emperor hat, and that certainly would not have been silly at all. I had hoped to leave Cate at home when I brought Alex back to school - attempting to recreate the normalcy of his life BEFORE and assuring that all attention would be on him for his first day back. But, as Cate does not allow me out of her sight for five minutes, let alone twenty, I could see this scenario would create undo stress. Besides, I reasoned with myself, this IS our new reality. My next idea, was to somehow dress these two children (one in special silly day clothes, which would certainly take several attempts to get just right) and myself, AND get to school early. Early, before the other families arrived and in that way, Alex could get back in the swing of things with the full attention he desperately needs right now. And it almost happened that way, it really almost did... but first, look at the whole morning.

I awoke this morning at 4:45 a.m. (awoke is a generous term here, and by it, I mean, accepted the fact that it was no longer night and sleep should be forgotten) to Cate whimpering and an unpleasant aroma filling the air. While her sleep schedule is adjusting to her new time zone, her other bodily functions are trying to catch up. I stumbled around for my glasses. I knew I had put them by the bed, but they were no where to be seen, not that I could have seen them anyway because I am blind as a bat without them. I tripped over something to her crib and pulled out her whimpering, still sleeping body and began to peel back the multiple layers of clothes that encase her while she sleeps as waves of nausea started to rise in my own body. Anyone who has parented or cared for a young child knows all too well what that smell means. It means a body, covered. It means wondering how to get that body out of the layers of clothing without covering it with a trail that goes from toes to hair. And in this particular case, it meant doing it in the semi-darkness, without seeing and trying hard not to cover myself . I promise, this will be the last very personal detail I will share about my daughter, as she does have a right to privacy, but for now... We got through it. I put her back in the crib, and blessedly, she went back to sleep. I tried, and quickly abandoned hope, opting instead for a cup of tea and a little quiet time to myself.

I got up. The house was freezing. A fresh layer of snow covered the "spring" ground. A ripple of fear swept through my body - was there ice under it? Would there be a snow day today? There just had to be school. Had to be. I made it down the stairs, tripping over the dozen or so plastic eggs that lie everywhere around our house, walked to the stove, pausing to pull Easter grass out from between my toes, put on the tea kettle... what was that I heard? Small feet following closely behind. Alex, up for the day. Good bye quiet time, but it wasn't so bad. It gave me a chance to give him a little cuddle of his own - one he did not have to share and one that I did not have to navigate with comments like, "Come on you two... both sides of my lap are just as good as the other. Alex, please don't put your foot there, that is your sister's leg. This is your leg. Cate, it is okay if I talk to your brother sometimes." It is good to be popular, but it comes at a cost.

We made it through breakfast. One meal for Cate, one for Alex, one for me, and fortunately, Steve is self-sufficient and is now able to feed Cate. I kicked aside the plastic egg shells and shoved the array of hats, mittens, dishes, mail, telescopes and sippy cups cluttering the counter. I tip-toed around yesterday's egg yolk on the floor and wondered where to toss the new pile of freshly soiled clothes. I tried to turn on the T.V, for Alex, jumping over the fallen playhouse, a mountain of blankets, an abandon Easter basket, a pair of plastic sunglasses and an apple core that must have been there from our pre-China days... had it been dragged out from its hiding place by a mouse in the night? On the table, my list of to-do's - kindergarten registration, bills due, thank you's to write, phone calls to return, and I wondered just what I thought was so difficult in my hotel room in China? Was it really that challenging to live in a small room with only three toys and our four sets of clothes sent to Stella in the morning to be laundered and sent back in neat piles wrapped in plastic each afternoon for only $10? Was it so hard to get dressed and head down to a breakfast buffet that could feed a small nation and return to my room where the beds had been made and the bathroom put in order? Was that really a challenge? What was it about home that we needed? I thought I needed my hair styling products since I lost the one thing I had brought somewhere between Beijing and Guangzhou, but even looking at the collection, Aveda for frizzy hair nestled next to Paul Mitchell for smooth, next to Suave for curls, filled me with a sense of dismayed pressure. If I owned all these products, had them all at my fingertips, I must be expected to use them and look like I had used them. In China, I just said, "I lost my mousse, and every woman nodded a kind of knowing nod and expressed her deepest sympathy with her eyes, in a way no man (metrosexuals not withstanding) could ever understand.

And so, I find myself, again at home, and happy. I have unpacked slowly. With each item put away, with each souvenir handed out, China recedes a little further, and while I hesitate to let her go, I am anxious to feel the heartbeat of a normal day. A normal night. The boredom and comfort of routine.

And so, Alex was ready for school. Ready early. Cate was dressed. Her shoes found and put on, her coat and hat on (by this time, it was raining and sleeting that early spring type of rain) and we headed for the door... but wait. What was that smell? Off with the shoes, the coat, the pants. And so, Alex was a little late. Just a little. And it didn't matter that he was late, or that Cate was with us and shared the attention. A "Welcome Back, Alex" sign hung on the door. A favorite teacher waited inside who scooped him up and hugged him furiously and all the silly hats and clothes gave the feeling of a party, just for him. Cate got gentle welcomes and words of praise. And it was good to be home.