I spent a good portion of the day sitting at my desk working, helpfully reminded of that fact (the mostly sitting part) by the buzzing of my Jawbone every 45 minutes (since I have it set to vibrate after 45 minutes of inactivity). Things only got crazy when I parked about a mile away from the high school for Back to School Night, and I had to walk – nay, run, since I was (surprise!) running behind – all the way there. Even so, probably not enough steps to warrant a discussion, and in any case, my phone is all the way over there [points to phone in charger about two feet past arm’s length] so I am not getting up to get it so I can report step count and all that.

Before that (Back to School Night, not not reaching for the phone), I had A Day. Y’know, one of those days that starts off with rain leaking into your car, and is followed up by several unpleasant interactions with someone who is either a major league asshole or – no, wait, there’s no “or” here – which is then followed by the discovery of a flat tire with some sort of hole in it, only to return home and find two trees missing and the lovely aroma of mold wafting its way into the living room. So really, that sprint to the high school was the high point of the day up until that moment.

Anyway, this was my first BTSN in our new town, at the littlest one’s new school. Of course, the littlest one is 14, and his new school is the aforementioned high school, but that doesn’t mean I am not going to call him the littlest one, at least in this particular blog post. Where was I? Oh, right, getting to the topic at hand. First BTSN, first time in the new high school. My second freshman. In all the hubbub over the college freshman, little has been made about the other freshman, the guy who bravely and heartily agreed to move, even though that meant he’d start at a school where he didn’t know a single person. And here we are, two weeks into the new school year, and this child of mine seems to be doing pretty well – and his new school seems pretty terrific, too.

This is what I learned: My son is in a good place. He got lucky with teachers (my favorite one is his favorite one!), he’s in a place conducive to learning, and he has opportunities he never would have had had we stayed in our old school system. Even the cafeteria is nice. It’s a good start, a really good start.

At the end of my crapola work day, when I was ready to scream, my colleague/friend said, go home, go to the people who really matter. At the end of the day, look who I get to come home to (yeah, yeah, the grammar sucks). How lucky am I? And that, dear fan club (AKA people who share either my DNA or my room), is really what it’s all about.