Sunday Night's Fears Realized

Drop-off was bad this morning. Horrible. Perhaps the all-time worst if you include last year's two months of crying. It was "I need plastic surgery to reattach my earlobe since she almost ripped it off in a desperate attempt to hold onto me" bad. It was "Her screams carried out the window to the parking lot" bad. It was "I'm having Raisinets for breakfast b/c I'm so messed up right now" bad. Seriously, I feel like I'm going to throw up and it's not from chocolate on an empty stomach.

I had a feeling things would be different this morning because Madam would not go to sleep last night. Unlike party guy Jack, Natalie needs to get a lot of sleep each and every night or everyone around her suffers. When she came prancing down the steps at 9:00 last night, I got a little nervous about how school would be impacted by her still being awake. By 10:00, I was in a full-fledged panic and took her to my room, climbing into bed with her even though I was in the middle of doing laundry. She finally passed out around 11:00 p.m, more than 3 hours past her normal bedtime. I had to wake her this morning by raising her shades and leaving her door open so that the sounds of the family getting ready would gradually nudge her into consciousness. I thought about rubbing her back until she woke up but that's about as safe as petting a hungry bear about to wake from winter's hibernation.

Once awake, she didn't want to go to the bathroom, eat breakfast or get dressed. I had to cajole her into all of it. (Keep in mind that I am NOT and have never been a morning person and you will begin to understand the depth of my love for this child and my commitment to making preschool a success for her.) Tom took Jack to school so that Madam and I were alone. Poor Jack, he is so happy and full of love in the morning and Nat and I were basically like, "NOT. NOW!!!" every time he grabbed a hug or told a joke. Nice guys really do finish last, don't they?

Buckled into her carseat, the whimpering began. "I don't want to go to school today, Mama! I want to be with you! I need you and I'll miss you!" Way to twist the knife, my young friend. I was able to distract her on the ride with repeated mentions of school's glue sticks, her new favorite thing in the whole world, but once parked, not even Cinderella appearing in full ball regalia could have coaxed her from the van. I had to pry her hands off the seat, carry her into the building and stand passively while her teachers peeled her off of me. 3 grown women and it took almost a minute for us to detach 30 lbs of determined love and hysteria from me. My hair was all out of its clip because I had to slither down out of the vise grip she had around my neck and I'm pretty sure my ear is bleeding. A flesh wound is nothing compared to the damage done to her fragile sense of security and trust. What must she think of me running away from her like that? She doesn't understand that it's less painful to rip off a bandaid in one yank rather than 100 tiny tugs. All she saw was the person she loves most in the world scrambling out the door, leaving her alone with strangers when she was feeling exhausted and terrified. I told her I loved her as I let go but did she even hear me over her screaming? I hope so. I hope she just KNOWS like I know she loves me even when she throws things and storms off when I correct her but I'm not so sure.

My Richard Marx playlist is not helping me perk up and the raisinets are laying in a lump in my stomach. 11:30 can't get here soon enough.