First Day

>

Mah baaybehh! He has gone to school.

For the whole day.

As in 8 whole hours away from me.

I don't know what to do with myself right now. I've spent the past six years with this child velcroed to my side. Sometimes by choice, sometimes not.

I'm sure once I get accustomed to having some free time, I'll find ways to fill it. Hopefully with something that doesn't involve mindless shopping to fill the void that is my broken heart.

At least someone is happy about it:







Here he is on the steps of his little academy. That's what it's called. The Academy. My heart. I can't take it.




Here he has to sign in. All by himself. Without me helping. I feel so superfluous.





And here is the sign that I'm putting up right down the street from the school. It reflects my mood wonderfully.

So here I sit. I've finished the post. I guess I'll go clean the house.

sigh

I just finished reading Lisa Gardner's latest novel, Say Goodbye. (Eventually I'll learn how to put the icon of the book I'm reading over there-------> under my "Reading" heading. Until then, bear with me.) It's a brutal and disturbing story and I wish I hadn't read it. It's absolutely haunting. I'll spare you the horrid details.

This passage, copied directly from the book, should be sufficient to chill you to the bone:

You think you're safe. You think you're middle class, suburban, the right car, the nice home. You think bad things happen to other people-maybe the poor schmucks in trailer parks where the ratio of kids to registered sex offenders can be as low as four to one.

But not to you, never to you. You're too good for this.

Do you own a computer? Because if you do, I am in your child's bedroom.

Do you have an online personal profile? Because if you do, I know your child's name, pet, and personal hobbies.

Do you have a webcam? Because if you do, I'm right now convincing your child to take off his or her shirt in return for fifty bucks. Just a shirt. What can it hurt? Come on, it's fifty bucks.

I'm not sure why this disturbed me so much. The brutality imposed on the children in this book, taken from actual occurrences, hit me where I'm vulnerable. SweetieDarling has had unsupervised internet access since she was 16. I had the computer out in a public area, where we could walk up and look at what she was doing. When she got a laptop for Christmas, she started using it in her room. It never occurred to me to monitor her activities. (Mother of the Year Award is on it's way) Silas, of course, being only 5, doesn't get past NickJr. But what of the future? How will I protect him?

My worry is that our children are growing up in a culture that I am not familiar with. They are growing up with constant and instant communication. They will forge friendships and build relationships with people that they never see in person. I worry that they will forget how to interact personally. Not having grown up in this type of culture, I worry that I won't be able to protect them or teach them to protect themselves.

How do you send your love through a text message or myspace page?

Please tell me I'm crazy

Poppets, your mission for this day, should you choose to accept it, is to tell me that I'm mad as a hatter. A few sandwiches shy of a picnic, that I have finally, after putting up a heckuva fight, lost my tenuous grip on the last vestiges of my sanity. If you could do that for me, I would appreciate it, because I have managed to freak myself completely out.


I have always thought that my son was too good to be true. Always. After what I went through to get pregnant with him when he was finally here I couldn't believe my fortune. When he turned out to be the easiest baby ever, I was elated. After failing my first three children in every way imaginable, and having to live with that guilt, I thought surely that this chance to redeem myself was just to good to be true. When he practically weaned and potty trained himself, taught himself how to get dressed, and was just generally the best kid ever, I couldn't believe my luck. I know I'm making him sound like the second coming but he's just that great. I could go on for pages about his accomplishments, how smart he is, blah blah blah, but couldn't we all? My point is I've never felt that I deserved him, and I've been waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me for five years. Because the rug always get pulled, or at least bunched up enough to trip me.


Would you please tell me that these two pictures look nothing alike? Pretty please? Because the first picture is of a little girl with retinoblastoma, which is a cancer of the eye. It was found because of that reflection in the picture.

Can you see why I'm freaking out? I can assure you that we'll be at the pediatricians office when they open in the morning, but maybe you guys can help me at least sleep tonight. Of course, that'll be after Dr. Google has his way with me.

Perched on the Precipice

SweetieDarling didn't come home last night. Didn't call, wouldn't answer her phone. The last thing she said when she left is that she was going to her friends' and would call me.

During those long, lonely hours between curfew and return, a lot of things go through a mothers' mind. The foremost of those things being that I really hoped she'd live through the night so I could kill her. The most trivial thing that I thought of, but that actually upset me the most was that I couldn't say what she was wearing. If I had to give the police a description of my daughter, I wouldn't be able to tell them what clothes she had on only a few longest of my life short hours ago. How can I look at my child, hug her goodbye, watch her leave, and not know what she was wearing? Why does this upset me so much?

She has never done this before, but upon reflection whilst delirious with lack of sleep and worry, I can see where she's been ever so slightly pushing the boundaries of her rules. She's always home on time, but doesn't want to have to be. If I know where she is, I'll extend curfew. All it takes is a simple telephonic request. She has a cell phone for a reason. But she wants to stay out if the situation calls for it and not have to check in. It's not that I don't trust her, I just want to know that she's ok. I truly don't think this is too much to ask.

I've never had to deal with this before. The oldest two had to be forced out of the house by threat. I remember being invincible and immortal, and sometimes am truly surprised that I survived my teens and early twenties. It is by pure dumb luck. What if she isn't that lucky?

She's perched on the precipice of adulthood. Ready and eager to take that leap. How do I help her without pushing her off too soon, or holding her back too long?

I just want her to land softly.