Emotion induced nausea. Or, Tallulah's first day of school

After losing the car argument the other day, I ended up winning which meant we had to take the Focus to Jeff, our mechanic who now loves Focuses (Foci?) and I've spent the last two days ferrying around my crew trying to get everything on our to-do lists done and in a timely manner with one mode of transportation. Last night, when I had fifteen minutes before passing into a pregnancy induced sleep coma, I could have made a blog entry, but instead decided to take a look at Catherine Newman's Dalai Mama blog for inspiration. The problem with reading for inspiration is that I need my inspiration to be semi-crappy so I can envision my writing filling the crappy-writing void with delicious and scintillating musings. Instead, Newman made me feel like my writing and observations are
A. trite
B. Boring
C.did I say trite? How about repetitious?

So I had to spend ten more minutes on go fug yourself (www.gofugyourself.typepad.com) to make myself feel better than poorly dressed B list celebrities. Yes, I'm shallow, but in a bitchy mean spirited way. Maybe its just the shallow bitchy side going into fug yourself overdrive, but am I the only person who pictures the writer of that blog as an overweight man who lives with his mother, has hair in surprising and unfortunate places, and smells strongly of ham? Is it just me?

Anyway, I dropped Tallulah off this morning at her first day of preschool. Ever. I have all of these big emotions bubbling over that I don't know what to do with.

Tallulah is amazing. She enters the classroom like a little ball of sunshine, approaching everything with ferocious excitement.
"You see my new lunch bag, Mrs. Leonetti? This is my school bag, I have snacks in it."
"Look, momma, my new friend has yellow hair like me. Hi! You have yellow hair and me, too!"
"Hi, I'm Tallulah. You have a pink skirt on. What your name?"

She stops at one point to stomp her feet and growl, overwhelmed with the pleasure of the day. We give kisses and hugs and say goodbye-- I make it quick so she can concentrate on school rather than my leaving, but once out the door I'm filled with misgivings. Did I ever tell her that school happens without mommy? Does she know that Mrs. Leonetti is her go-to adult? I didn't show her where the bathroom is. I packed a crappy lunch. Maybe the day will be too long-- 2 pm!-- and she'll get tired and crabby.

I turn back. Mrs. Leonetti is at the door greeting another parent and child. I see Tallulah peek around her leg, spot me and wave. Mrs. Leonetti leans down and gives Tallulah a big hug.
"We're going to play and meet new kids, Tallulah. Then we'll have storytime and lunchtime and soon after that Mommy will be back to pick you up."
Tallulah looks up at Mrs. Leonetti, concerned. "Aren't we going to play on the playground?"

How did I get this confident, self-possessed child?

I remember being in tears-- so tired, so frustrated, wanting to put Tallulah down, wanting to give her away, let her cry while I locked myself in the bathroom, while we tried to do attachment parenting with its constant holding, constant breastfeeding, constant attention, constant PARENTING. Until age two she refused to be separated from me without a major fight. And it was HARD.

I don't think any style of parenting really makes a difference with this-- babies and toddlers want and crave constant parental love-- but attachment parenting added a dimension of unescapability to it. It wasn't ok to let her 'cry it out' or put her on a schedule. And most days I loved it, loved the closeness, loved the cuddling, loved her affection for me. But on the days it was hard.... So now, Kent and I like to congratulate ourselves that we loved her up into confidence.

But I don't think that's really true. I think it was just time. That all the cuddling and attachment parenting was really for me-- to be able to really enjoy the dependancy for what it was-- a fleeting moment in the life of this amazing person. And now she's ready to experience more, to learn more, to do more. Its the beginning of her life separate from, but, if I'm lucky, shared with me. And I have this sense of excitement and loss and ennui.

I want one of those pens from Harry Potter that Professor Umbridge had-- the pens that carve words into your own flesh. I need it to carve a reminder into my head, my heart, my hand....Patience. I need it for Tallulah's future as she grows into awkwardness and rebellion and aloofness and I need it for soon to be born Baby Moxie, so I remember to cuddle her every moment that's available.

I have to stop thinking about all of this and go clean my house because the emotion is making my pregnant-self nauseous.