Dear Happy Dance

Dear Happy Dance,

I thought you'd visit me today.  You never showed!  My first day of having just one little girl home with me.  I repeat:  One.  After years of wiping noses and tushes and mouths and messes off of walls and table tops I saw 3 out of 4 of my girls off to school.  In an hour, the house suddenly got a bit more quiet for me and Rella.



Yes, happy dance, I could have sworn you'd come for tea.  Or perhaps for a tall glass of lemonade at noon.  But alas, you failed to arrive as expected.  What the heck?

I'm used to sending CB off on a yellow school bus.  She has been going on the bus since the day she turned 3.  The childhood of a diagnosed girl is cut short in many ways.  She was expected to work hard for the things that came easy to other toddlers. While her peers dabbled in colors and ABCs until age 5,  CB was in a cubicle getting drilled with discrete trial training and enduring hours of speech and occupational therapy.  What started at age 3 will continue without summer hiatus until age 21. 

She would have been over at the high school right now starting the 10th grade if things were different.  I try not to think too long and hard about that.  It is what it is.  And it is all good. 

Then there is Pink.

True, Pink started big girl school last year as a half-day Kindergartner.  She left me at 8:00 am and returned home just in time for lunch, so we really weren't separated for too long last year. I still felt like I had all 3 home with me.  My little 6 year old Pink is now gone for over 8 hours.  An entire work day.  Did you hear that Happy Dance?  She's gone for 8 hours Monday through Friday.  Happy, right?

Lastly there is baby-girl Tinkie Tink. 



At 4 1/2 this is her first time ever in a preschool setting.  She was so ready with her pink glittered Keds. I was only 80% ready.  Maybe I needed some shoes with bling.  While it's only 2 days a week, her first day ended up being today, with the other girls' first days. 

I wasn't as pleased with the school when I dropped her off as I was when I visited, so I spent the day worrying about my decision.  Wondering if she was safe, if she'd have to pee too much, if she'd like her lunch, if she'd make a friend. 

It's hard letting go.  Harder than I thought.
 (And let's not blow off how old I look in this photo.  If I wasn't cheap and chicken methinks a bit o' botox is in order)

So Happy Dance, it was a big fat first day of school for 3 of the 4 girls.  The first day for me of no incessant squabbling, running around like a lunatic at the grocery store, and being a short order cook at lunchtime.  I waited for you Happy Dance. I was ready to feel the love. 

But instead it was Tiny Little Heartache that knocked on my door.  Oh the shame of it all! What kind of mother AM I sitting around all day missing my KIDS?!?! Some kind of freak mother, that's what.  Something is entirely wrong with my head.  I need to refresh my memory by reading old blog posts of complete and utter chaos.

So, happy dance you let me down.  Or perhaps it was I who let you down.  I wanted to shake my booty but instead I puttered around the house feeling the dull ache of missing almost everyone who matters most to me (save Rella, sweet in my arms).  I'm not good with change, so  maybe it will take me a few weeks to get into the rhythm of a quieter house and girls that are growing up before my eyes.  Growing and moving inch by inch away from me and into a world where I cease to matter as much.  Just like they should.  I will enjoy my own independence as they discover theirs, I will.  But hey, I never said I wouldn't miss the heck out of them. 

Reunited at 5:00 pm.  This is when they did their happy dance. 

I'll meet up with you soon Happy Dance.  Very soon.  I've done my time.  I've paid my dues. And soon, I'll dance the dance.