Metal Meredith

Hanna is our non-storm, I suppose. There was rain, there was wind. It all started yesterday around 6pm and it presently sunny and breezy outside. Other than piles of downed sticks and puddles of water on the streets, you wouldn’t know anything had come through.

Of course, Vivienne had to take a moment to go outside and play in some puddles. I remember doing that when I was little and I still want to float leaves and things down the side of the road when I see those little rivers of rain water. I know I was out there for hours in the rain, watching things float away and into the drains.

You will never find me telling my kids they can’t go outside and play in the rain or to not jump in puddles in parking lots and on sidewalks. Shoes and clothes dry out. Dirt and mud come out of clothing. Those things only acceptable in childhood need to be taken full advantage of before kids start to feel silly about them.

(As the fireworks explode above me)

Vivienne is off and running. She was so excited that she almost giggled herself right out of her skin. She happily skipped to the bus stop, she stood quietly and took it all in and grabbed my hand in a death grip when she saw the bus coming. She hopped right on without a second look and off she went.

No tears from anyone. I am elated and proud and excited for her.

For those friends and family, especially the other moms I know, I promise I do have feelings and emotions. I know at this moment, when I am bursting with joy and overflowing with excitement at the prospect of both of my children being in school within the next two weeks, you must think that I am void of any real feelings. But I am not. Promise.

Here is the thing. I just don’t get all weepy over the normal things that I am apparently supposed to. I will fully admit to rolling my eyes at the parents of the kids starting preschool, crying as they dropped their children off. Maybe Vivienne made it easy for me? Her rather uneventful departure and lack of need for me was quite pleasing when she was 2. We didn’t go through a big separation anxiety period with her until, well, this summer. By then, it was annoying and I didn’t care at all. These past few weeks, I have read about parents tearing up at the very thought of the school bus, at their little baby being in a grown up school all day with (gasp!) bigger kids. I smile politely when I talk to parents that ask me “I am so sad. What will I do all day without my baby around? I will be so lonely without him/her.” Then I turn and put my finger down my throat and feign gagging. Sorry, I am a big ol’ meanie like that.

In all honesty, I am so excited for my Vivienne. I am thrilled about what she will learn, the new things she will do, the new skills she will master. Phil and I both were darn right giddy when we went into the art room. We both have fond memories of using all the Tempera paint and paper mache and sculpting clay. Even the smell had me swooning. Then there are the library books, the computers, the triple lines on the paper for big and little letters and those huge pencils. We bought her markers and pencils and a composition book! Compositions! I love that.

Henry is next, so there is still time. Perhaps Henry will cause my motherly instincts to kick in? Will he be the kid that causes me to openly cry as I am leaving him, reaching for me? Who knows if I will fill my eyes with tears the moment I see the bus coming to carry off my first born? Maybe I will sit at home and weep as I think of her in that great big school. I think I will, but it will be from happiness. And I will be sitting, but on the toilet, in a rare moment of peeing alone that I have not had in 5 long years. That, my friends, is what will make the tears flow. 

Tonight, Vivienne’s bed after looking at the book about dinosaurs and fossils and palaeontologists:

Vivienne: When I grow up, I am going to be a Scientist of Everything.

Phil: Really?

Vivienne: Yep, because I know so much.

Help me. Please.