changes

Last week, Zoë started “school.” It was awful. I should have known it would be awful, but I didn’t. D and I dropped her off on the playground with Stella, and she was fine until she realized we were going to leave her there, and then she burst into tears—wailing and pointing to the door. Stella was a dear, holding her hand and talking in that really high voice she reserves for Zoë. But as we drove away and saw Zoë screaming, I felt sick to my stomach. Why was I doing this to her?

I thought the transition would be easy because she had been to school so many times to drop off and pick up Stella. She knew some of the teachers. She recognized the other “babies.” I thought she’d be fine because she’s such an extrovert. She thrives on attention and activity and being surrounded by other people.

Who was I kidding? Had I forgotten that I had been with her almost every moment of her 17 months? Had I forgotten that she was a momma’s girl? Apparently.

She cried 90% of the day, and when I went to pick her up, she was standing in the corner on the toddler playground, staring dazedly at the other kids, her eyes red and her face mottled. The poor thing wouldn’t let me put her down for the rest of the day.

But, and here is the flip side—I got a ton of work done that day. I sat in my office and typed away, did research for an article that feels like it will never be finished. I stared out the window, wondered about my little ones. I had a conference call with my co-editor at Literary Mama. (Yes, I’m now on board at Literary Mama, co-editor for Literary Reflections! I’m thrilled!)

I got a ton done that day, and Zoë’s second day was better: down to 15% of the day spent crying. And I’m hoping that soon she will be jumping into the car on school days. (I guess I shouldn’t hold my breath for that one.)

I know I need this time to work, but I do miss the little bugger. And since last week, Zoë has been less into mom. Last weekend we were up north at the cabin, and she only wanted Grammy. Lord knows I’ve been in this situation before. I understand what it feels like not to be the favorite. I also understand that these phases pass. (And then they return and they pass again.)

I’ll be patient with her and patient with myself. Now if I could just tie up all my freelance work so I can get back to my book!!