Yesterday was my Cyclone-babies first full day of school. I was both excited and terrified, but it came and went and we managed to survive it.
I woke up early to make him breakfast and pack his lunch, and, eventually, I got him up as well:
I had planned on going with him on his first day, but my darling little girl woke-up puking like a spring-breaker, so we scratched that plan.
This meant that I had to say goodbye to my boy even earlier.
So, I went about writing notes and hiding them in his pocket. sneaking his favorite bear, Tales, into his bag, and telling him how much I loved him while holding his face in both my hands, mere inches from mine, until he finally spoke up to say, “Mom, I’m starting to get worried that I might be late. Can you stop?”
And then it was time.
And just like that, they were gone.
And I bawled my ever-lovin’ eyes out.
I was almost relieved to have a sick girl as a distraction from all the weeping, but she wasn’t much of a distraction for long:
I mostly spent my day watching over a sleeping-baby as well as watching the clock.
And staring at my lonely heart, and staring at empty chairs.
My husband did eventually send me some pictures he took of the “official” drop off. Which helped me pass the time a little.
And then, FINALLY, it was time. . .or at least close enough, and I strapped my baby-girl into the bike trailer and took of for my boy’s school.
I wrapped that boy’s hand in mine and didn’t let go.
Until this morning, of course, when he left again.
I didn’t cry this time, but I did still draw pictures on our hands and hide notes in his pockets.