This morning I growled at my alarm clock, my husband, my clothes, my hair, you name it! However, I put on a pasted, somewhat manic smile, for my daughter. I spoke to her in charmed overtones and barked about taking the “Facebook First Day Picture”, with the cute sign, and smiling sibling faces.
We walked as a family to the blacktop. I was a freaking hot mess. I get anxiety when I’m around the whole gaggle of moms. Yes, I like them, respect them, enjoy their company. But, I feel like the sore, swollen thumb in the mix of slender, manicured fingers.
In school I never fit in. I hated school.
My daughter was so happy this morning. She was so excited for school to begin. I never felt that way. I am in awe of her.
I think the first day of school is about the parents’ nerves. Besides the right school supplies, clothes, teachers, etc. The truth is our pasts are rooted in our children. We breathe a sigh of relief when our children confidently walk into school, with hardly a good-bye nod.
I want her to ditch me. I want her to walk without fear and do her her thing. The first day of school black- top extravaganza is a symbol for how we hope our children proceed through life: fearless, but we want them to eat their vegetables and call everyday!
My face is oily and slick, I am exhausted, and I know I need a shower from the nervous sweat.
My daughter’s first day was great. My manic job is done.
My husband and I are celebrating with Take-Out and binge watching Netflix.
It’s a jungle out there. Good luck this year, parents.