Can someone please tell me where my babies have gone? Because I'm pretty sure it was just yesterday that I had a crazy 19 month old, a miniature newborn and hadn't slept in like, 647 days.
Time does slow down when you're actually getting some sleep. I definitely feel like things are marching by at a much more reasonable pace than they were when the girls were infants, but still-these childhood years go by way too fast. I was a mix of excitement, sentimentality and pride, with a tiny dash of sadness thrown in for good measure today. The Little One had made her way into my bed around six am for some snuggles, and at eight when I awoke for the day, I took my time getting out of bed. Spent some time examining her thick, gorgeous, green eye framing eyelashes, her perfect little button nose, and stroking her baby soft hands. Sigh. Was I really ready to hand off this perfect little creation of mine to another set of hands, even just for 7.5 hours a week? I wasn't sure how I felt.
The girls, however? Nothing but stoked, baby. Nothing but stoked.
Well, maybe a little more than stoked....can't forget about the side of puke. I had pulled them out of the shower this morning, and had The Little One standing on my bed to have her Baby Magic lotion applied when she puked Cocoa Puffs everywhere. Sweet. She felt awfully warm so I was pretty sure she had Ebola or something and was going to miss her first day of school and why does this stuff always happen to us? Imagine my surprise when an hour later she was stuffing her face with graham crackers and yogurt and assuring me she was "all better Mama! I go to schoo-ool!"
Anxiety can be a crazy thing. Alternatively, so can motivation.
So, with everyone happy and healthy, we all headed off to school-first stop, kindergarten. The Curly Haired One was more than happy to line up with the rest of her class to await her teacher, and when it was time to file in, she did so with not even a glance back at me and the tears I were barely holding back not crying at all.
I knew she would rock it. This girl loves school, and thrives on the socialization, responsibility, and learning that it brings. She was more than ready for kindergarten. Hell, girlfriend could probably take on college. Lord knows she could run this house if she had to-I'm only here to keep CPS off our backs.
I was decidedly more nervous about the next stop, at preschool.
The Little One had surprised me with a little bit of fear and hesitation at Meet the Teacher night. Before that, I had never even considered that she would be anything but overwhelmingly excited to start school-we can thank her overachieving sister for that. This little girl exceeded my expectations, however.
She sat right down with her teacher and a few other children at the drop off area and jumped into story time, being polite, participating, raising her hand and basically just being all around adorable. I waited in the back of the room until it was time to line up and march to class just in case she needed me, but with a few waves and smiles and blown kisses, she chugga-chugga-choo-chooed off with the rest of the three year olds into the train room.
Le sigh. It is so conflicting, not being needed at a time like this. My soul swelled with pride, knowing that I am raising two independent, well adjusted little people. My ego took a hit, however-I find myself getting so much of my self worth out of being needed by them-I am a mama. It's my definition. If they don't need me, then what good am I?
They do need me, though. They need me to be waiting for them at the bus stop. They need me to ask them how their day was, to give them a big hug and kiss, to tell them how proud I am for being such big girls today. They need me to cook them a big dinner, and pour their juice into wine glasses to celebrate such a big milestone. They need me to tuck their pajama-ed bottoms into bed, and wish them a deep night of sleep in preparation for another day of being strong, independent little people.
They'll always need me.
They better, damn it.
Cause I sure as hell need them.
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