Pre-School

Now that my daughter has started pre-school, I might actually have time to update this blog more than once every few months.

H was super brave when she went to pre-school. She didn't want me to walk her in--heck, she didn't even want me to drive her. She walked right in, turned and went down the stairs. I know, because I followed her with the camera so I could get pictures for her Daddy. I was brave too, I didn't cry until she was safely inside and I was back inside the Lumbering Ox...er, Durango. By the way, we got the shake fixed so now it rides great. I only owe Amex $900, but the Durango rides smooth.

Anyway, I have to stop listening to ABBA for awhile, because as I'm watching my precious girl go to pre-school, wearing her Disney Princesses back-pack which is holding the Disney Princess pencil case and the High School Musical folder, all I can think of it lyrics from Slipping Thru My Fingers.

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning
Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile
I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness
And I have to sit down for a while
The feeling that I'm losing her forever
And without really entering her world
I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter
That funny little girl

Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time
Do I really see what's in her mind
Each time I think I'm close to knowing
She keeps on growing
Slipping through my fingers all the time

So of course I'm bawling all the way home. I can't help it. We waited over 10 years for H to show up, and when I finally got pregnant I was 10 weeks along and throwing up before I even realized it. To be fair, my Grandpa had just died so I thought it was grief messing with my appetite, although I should have realized when I was losing weight and my waist was getting bigger than something was up. Anyway, I may be a little overprotective and hyper-vigilant, and unable to sympathize with mothers who are so excited to drop their kids off at pre-school that they are doing the happy dance and saying this is the best day of their lives.

I am proud of her, proud that she is so brave, happy she is excited to learn, but I know that soon she'll be in elementary school, and the next thing you know I'll be dropping her off at college.

In the meantime, what do I do with 4 hours to myself each week?