Tuesday, August 30, 2011

I should have taken stock in Kleenex

The Parent Drop-Off Line…wahhhhh!

I have always been a bit “stoic” when it comes to my Baby Girl. You see, growing up and even in my present day I have been told that I am just too emotional. Trying to keep that influence out of her life (hey….if it has passed on to her through genes, there is nothing I can do but say “Hey! It is in our genes!!!!) I sucked it up, dried it up, etc.  Well, that has all changed. August 2011 has become a milestone for me. A sloppy, wet, tear-soaked, ugly-cry milestone. 

Baby Girl has turned five and she has started Kindergarten. (Tito…get some tissues!) She is going to the same ‘school’ as she did last year for Preschool, however, things are different.  Up until a few weeks ago I would drive her to school, park and then walk her in to her classroom. She started socializing or clinging to her teacher’s leg, depending on how she was feeling.  The teachers and I would chat it up and then I would say a loving goodbye to my girl by kissing her hand and she would place it on her cheek just like in "The Kissing Hand.

Those days are over.

I would send her to school with lopsided ponytails and she would come home with the prettiest tightest braids. Sometimes one big braid, sometimes two, and sometimes she would have intricate patterns circling her little precious head. All thanks to the amazing ladies who cared for her.

Not anymore.

I had an investment in the teachers and the children she was surrounded with. Her lunch was brought to her (price included in the tuition) and she had delicious naps and serious playground time.

Finito. Nada. Done.


We now enter the Parent Drop-Off line of traffic.

I pull up and stop as directed and someone else opens her door, unbuckles her car seat and helps her out of the car. They assist her with her back pack and lunch box. Sometimes a conversation is started between Baby Girl and the Parent Patrol Person and I don’t get to send my loving, although possibly embarrassing, “love you” and “have an awesome day” and blow kisses. Sigh. Sniff. Errrrt. Sniff sniff sniff.

No longer do I get to walk her to her class, chat it up with the teacher, and get dozens of hugs from the other children. Her lunch is made the night before by me and no matter how many cute little ways I come up with to make her lunch FABULOUS, it comes back to me just like I sent it. The Goldfish Bread, the heart shaped fruit that I cut out for her, even the cute little notes I write on sandwich bags and napkins come back. Does anyone actually read them to her? Bahhh wahhh wahhhhhh! Her hair looks more frazzled when she comes home than what silly excuse for pigtails I sent her there in. “Tito…where are you and those tissues?????”

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