It’s been busy for awhile around here. And the first few weeks of school have been no exception. But for the first time in a couple weeks we were not on the road to Bastrop on a Thursday afternoon and I was not away there and there was time to play blocks and have a cleaning party to “Shake It Off” (where she danced through the rooms) and try out daddy’s old guitar and eat dinner together and end the night with lots of reading. I even got a single photo out of it.
PS I’m in love with the headband she’s been rocking for the past two days. She places it on her head just so, and it’s such a lovely chaotic expression of her unique style.
Monday was Leila’s first day of school. Her first day at a big school. Her first day in HISD. Her first day being gone all day. The night before I asked her how she felt. She told me felt excited and nervous. I agreed.
Up until drop-off, I was so preoccupied with all of the forms and uniforms and tuition and lunch and getting tiny containers to hold the lunch and getting cool packs to keep the lunch cold and figuring out where to buy a nap mat and washing all the water bottles and wondering what I was forgetting and then actually getting to school on time, that it wasn’t until I said good-bye that I felt a big choke in my throat. I held it together, for her, and out of the good-old fashioned fear of what the other grown-ups would think of me, but I could not wait to pick her up and hear all about this momentous day.
I was giddy at all she could recount to me. She told me what she ate for lunch and what she liked (pita chips and hummus) and what she didn’t like (my homemade “cookies” that were actually just a handful of ridiculously nutritious ingredients) and how many times she played with other kids and that they couldn’t go outside because it was raining (they were supposed to go outside after lunch, which she told me was the “one thing” that was similar to her old school where they played outside after snack).
“I saw you at pick-up line,” she told me.
“Yes, I didn’t want you to be nervous I wasn’t there,” I said.
“I wouldn’t be nervous you weren’t there.”
And I exhaled a big sigh of mama relief.
We could both handle this.