Wednesday, September 8, 2010

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

Today I put on my big Mommy pants and took Princess to school. I'd already packed her healthy (no candy)(no pop)(there goes the snack of Lik-m-aids and Mt. Dew I'd planned) snack and her matching Lisa Frank glittery unicorn lunch box, folders and notebooks. I had already completed about seven minor to severe anxiety moments at 3 am after Spanky the Idiot Dog (not his real name) woke me up by kicking the wall during his "train dream" (so named because he makes noises that sound like a train). I had gotten up in *plenty* of time to drink coffee, hit the potty, eat breakfast, hit the potty, put my make up on (because the first day is NOT time for anyone to see me rocking the "Hilton Head" booty shorts and medusa hair), hit the potty and get out the door. Two immodiums later and I was ready. Well, as ready as I'd ever be.

But was Princess? I mean, this is the kid who needed the Jaws of Life to pry her apart from me during our hour long classes at church last year. This is the kid for whom I made HIGHLY DETAILED bullet-pointed lists to give to care givers. Not because I'm that anal (although certainly a good bullet-pointed list does soothe me) but because she was/is challenging....spirited....ummmm....special? I'm running out of positive euphemisms here people.

Look, if you have a kid with a very known can say that and people get it. I can't do that with my kid. My kid had severe colic and I think still does at times. For the record, so does every kid I know of who had severe colic. They just stay....high strung.

So school? I was a wee more apprehensive than the average bear.

And yet.

Kids were dropping like flies around us, bawling, red-faced, clinging to desperate moms and dads like they'd realized they were on the deck of the Titanic and captain-iceberg-right-ahead. But Princess? She was looking around like, okay, what's next...

Then, it was go time. Literally. I went in for the final hug, holding back my gushy-Mommy-tear-fest and thought "if she's going to freak, it'll be now"... I leaned down, hugged her, and she looked up with a huge smile.

"Mommy! The teacher said I'm the LEADER!"

And that was that. I left, snuffling my way down the hallway, along with The Man, who'd already been to this particular rodeo, about 15 years ago, and a bunch of weepy sappy moms (like me).

The verdict? School was "great" and her "dude teacher" (in Princess's world, there are dudes, and there are ladies, the end) was really "nice." The only problem was when a fellow student sneezed on her and apparently Princess suggested she go home for that transgression. We discussed a better way to handle things... but it could have been worse, oh yes, far worse.

It could not, however, have been much better. Welcome to school, Princess. You are indeed, the leader.

Comments, questions, how was your kid's first day?