It is a rainy Saturday morning and I am avoiding gearing up for a ridiculously busy day.
It has been an emotional week. The UnderToad has been lingering, and though I know my hormones are more to blame than anything, I can’t help but think several circumstances also contributed. There have, on the positive side, been some hidden gems of goodness sort of sprinkled throughout everything.
Since moving to Clemmons, I have had terrible luck finding doctors and dentists that I actually like. Monday morning started with annual physicals for both the girls with yet a new doctor’s office. The appointment was great. The doctor was great. Finally.
At one point the doctor looked at Eliott and asked if she knows her phone number. Cursed with her dad’s sense of shyness in new places, she couldn’t even look him in the eye, let alone say anything. In a moment of forced humility I tried not to sparkle when I said, “Actually, yes they both their phone numbers. I taught them a little song.” Of course he asked if Eliott would sing the song. As Eliott’s cheeks went from red to ashen in about two seconds, Carter came to her rescue. Standing on the platform of the examination table she announced, “Are you ready? Are you ready to hear it?” and then proceeded to sing her ten-digit phone number on the spot.
One of my better mom moments, obviously.
The moment was short lived when the same three year old who engaged the doctor in telling her all about his dog Jenny (with a demand for iPhone photos) finished the appointment with a dramatic cry fest on the floor of the reception area as I checked out. All in the name of stickers. Awesome.
Then we went to a funeral.
Monday night, I skipped the Open House for school, knowing it would mostly be about fundraising, high school (and sports), and volunteer opportunities. I’m already a terrible private school parent. So Tuesday we went to meet Eliott’s teacher and to solve the mystery of “Exactly what time does school start tomorrow and where do I drop her off?” (This seemed like an important bit of information to obtain in advance.) The papers piled on Eliott’s desk told me I was, in fact, the only Kindergarten parent who did not attend Open House the night before. I’m not trying to over-immerse myself in a new system. I like to let these things wash over me slowly.
For my birthday, Eliott started Kindergarten. I had been assured that I’d be allowed to walk her in to school on the first day, but to please start using the car line after a week. I had subsequently been alerted to the “show” on the first day of school, of mothers taking pictures, crying, and not leaving. At breakfast on Wednesday morning I asked Eliott if she wanted me to walk her in or if she wanted to do the car line. Her car line declaration was most definitely accompanied by a fist pump.
That’s my girl.
When I asked her to tell me all about her first day of school, she spent the better part of twenty minutes detailing the food available in the cafeteria.
That’s my girl.
But the UnderToad continued to linger. It often hits me when I’m driving in the car, and even though my rational side mentally makes a great case against my emotions, my body tends to physically react to the emotions instead of reason. It is a strange and totally annoying sensation that further reminds me of how much I wish I had been born a man. Someone recently tried to explain to me some of the side effects of testosterone production as a result of being pregnant with a boy. Again, I have noticed absolutely zero difference between this pregnancy and others, and remain convinced that Satan has somehow won control over human hormones.
So there have been lots of tears this week, from all three of us, and I have short lived moments of pity for John in the midst of all this. But let it be known that not a single tear has been shed in one of those, “My babies are growing up too quickly,” moments I’ve heard and read about so often. I’ve embraced this at yet another abnormality that distances me from so many of my peers. I couldn’t be more excited for what is about to be the best time of my life as a stay at home mom, so far.
My kids love school. I love school.
I have yet to read any sobbing Facebook posts of family trips to Disney World.
This weeks begins my twelve year trip to Disney World.