Is it February already? Did the groundhog see his shadow? We are slowing down a little bit today after another busy couple of weeks. At first it did not seem like we would be able to gather the rhythm we needed. The switch to full time for Marcela means three days of parenting for me. It also means we all leave the house everyday and 7:10 to go to the train. "Hi train!" Noah always shouts. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the kids go next to their 'schools' and I race home to complete whatever lectures, assignments, discussions, or readings I have waiting for the courses I teach those days. Mid-day I drive to Alewife Station, the farthest west the Red Line subway goes, and put the car in the lot. I call Marcela to tell her where it is. She leaves work at 3:00, picks up the car in Alewife, drives back to Maynard and picks up the kids. On Tuesday, she and the kids then drive back to the train station and leave the car, taking the Clock Tower Shuttle back to Maynard. I return at 11:30 p.m. pick up the car and drive home. On Thursdays I finish much earlier, and Maxim, Noah, and Marcela pick me up at the station at 7:00. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday by comparison are much easier. The three of us, Noah, Maxim, and I return from the train station and we spend the day together. On Wednesday, Maxim has gymnastics, and we drove to Stowe and Noah and I sit in the waiting area and watch her tumble and jump and climb and balance. On Monday, I am usually behind in my class preparation, so I try to work, as best I can through the morning. The kids play well these days, but are still quite young and want and need parental attention and help and mediation and the like. We eat lunch together, play for a while and read books, and they nap. I insist. There is a ritual. "I don't wanna nap," Noah always says. "I'm not tired." He slumps his shoulders like Kwazimodo and slouches into the other room. "I'm not going to nap. I'm not going to." Maxim says as a follow-up. But then I herd them upstairs, grabing requisite dolls and blankets and stuffed animals and books and whatever else they can think of on the way. Without fail, they are asleep within 15 minutes. Afternoons are not my best times of day for productive work, but I try to take advantage of the time to finish preparing my course and getting ready for the next day's classes. When it snowed last week, big heavy wet spring snow, we rolled snowballs in the back yard and built a fort. We built three large snowmen at the front end of our yard as well, knowing that the middle school boys who walk through everyday would take them as enemies of civilization and destroy them. They were in tatters by 3:30 p.m., decimated by 5:00. Last Wednesday (last week) Maxim registered for Kindergarten...KINDERGARTEN! Sarah, the director of the Community School where Maxim has attended for two years, told us that among her peers, Maxim was the most ready for school. She nearly burst when she went into Greenmeadow. While she was using the potty, Noah wandered off. Marcela found him down the hall talking with a teacher. He thinks he's ready for kindergarten as well, but it'll be another two years. He is registered for the Community School starting in June. No mishaps this week. More of a rhythm. If we hand't decided to take a trip to New York over the weekend last weekend, we probably wouldn't have ended up feeling still exhausted at the end of this week. But now we are confident that we can catch up. We survived the roughest parts of the transistion and squeezed out work and play and meals and love despite being overscheduled for two full weeks. We can *almost* breathe a sigh of relief. Aaah. Friday.