I'm Back in the Saddle Again!

I'm back in the saddle, both figuratively and, well, figuratively.  My fingers have been itching to blog, but time has escaped me.  The end of the school year always eats up so much time what with class parties, figuring out teacher gifts and creating a Summer schedule.  The Curly Girlies have been out of school for about 3 weeks and I've just now found time to sit down and write.

We have started our month long vacation, though I'm not really sure The Doctor would call it that, since he's working for the majority of it.  We traveled a great 4 hours to the north and will be visiting The House of Mouse next week.  For now, we are visiting the house of Gram and Gramps (AKA The Doctor's parents). 

If you recall, 9 months ago, The Curly Girlies and I were in a major car accident on the highway.  I haven't done any highway driving since then.  I've never had a great love of driving, but I had gotten to a point where I didn't mind highway driving,  After the accident, though, any confidence I had vanished.  The Doctor said something a few weeks ago that really resonated with me.  We were getting ready to start our days and The Doctor was telling me how he had a bunch of travel coming up, some of which was to take place right at the beginning of our trip. 

"You really need to do something about this fear of driving on the highway," he said, after I pointed out that driving 4 hours for him to fly back home so he could fly to another city was ridiculous. I knew that if I were able to drive on the highway, he could just leave from home on his trip and meet us at Gram and Gramps.  I also knew that I really did have to do something to get over this fear. All of this ended up being moot, since the trip was canceled. 

A few days later, my iPad broke and I had to drive to the Apple store to get it fixed. The closest Apple store is 10 miles away and unless I took the highway, it would take forever to get there.  I panicked at the thought of driving there by myself.  I thought about asking The Doctor if we could go at night, when he could drive me, but I knew that would earn me a sigh and really, I didn't want to wait for him.  The sooner I got it fixed the sooner I could go back to reading (and Facebooking and Bejeweling).  I gathered up all my nerve and drove.  I was only on the highway for about 10 minutes, but those were some of the scariest 10 minutes I can ever recall.  After I got to the mall, I realized I needed to do something about this.

The week before our big trip, I casually mentioned to The Doctor that I wanted to drive for part of the trip.  He looked up and I said, "Well, I think the only way I'm going to be able to do highway driving again is if I just do it, but I'm too afraid to do it by myself." 

"I agree," he said.

Skip to yesterday. . . After all the errands and chores, both in and out of the house, were complete and The Doctor came home from work, we loaded up the car and got on our way.  I realized he was driving and assumed he had forgotten I said I wanted to drive.  Fine by me!  I really didn't want too anyway. 

About an hour into our trip, I looked at The Doctor from my comfy position in the passenger seat and saw how tired he looked.  Before I could stop me I heard myself say, "Do you want me to drive?"

"What did I just say??," I thought.  "Maybe he'll say no."

"Are you up for driving?," he asked.

"Well, I mean, I'll drive if you're tired," I stammered, truly hoping he'd say he was fine.

"You know, I am feeling kind of tired," he said.  "We'll switch at the next exit."

My heart started pounding and I could feel my blood pressure rising.

The Doctor pulled into a gas station and looked at me.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?," he asked. "If you're not, I'm OK to keep going."

"I have to do this, even if I don't want too," I said, opening my door harshly.

I so totally did not want to do this.  I wanted him to say, "You know, Sweetie, you don't have to do this.  Go back to the passenger seat."

We switched seats and I slammed the driver's door shut a little harder than I needed too.

The Doctor looked at me from the passenger seat and said, "You seem a little angry."

"I'm not angry, just scared and stressed," I said, as I blinked away tears.

"You can do this," he said gently.  "Take your time.  We aren't on a time schedule and we'll get there when we get there."

From the back seat, the girls started shouting words of. . . something.  They certainly weren't encouragement, since they kept talking about flipping the car and accidents.  Good to know they have such confidence in their dear old Mom.

I drove 40 miles on the highway.  It's not very much, in the grand scheme of things, but it was more than I've driven in 9 months.

I kept remembering how I learned how to drive on the highway in the first place.  My grandpa, B-Pa, taught me how.  I remember how I stayed in the middle lane, because I didn't want to go fast enough for the left, and the merging cars on the right scared the bejeezers out of me.

Every time I came between 2 trucks, I'd slow down.

"Don't slow down, CGM!," he would say urgently.  "The car will only go where you put it.  As long as you are going straight, you won't hit a truck."

It was a different highway and 30 years later yesterday, but B-Pa was very much alive in my mind during my drive. 

When we switched back, The Doctor turned to me and said, "So, do you feel better about driving on the highway now?"

"Not really," I replied, honestly.  "I'm shaking like a leaf.  I kind of wish I hadn't said anything."

"Did you really think I was going to not let you drive, especially since you told me you felt you needed too?," he asked with a smile.

"I thought you forgot and I wasn't going to remind you," I answered, nonchalantly.

"I didn't forget.  I was actually planning on pulling over right before you said something.  I just wanted to get you past all the construction so that your part of the drive was easy," he said, lovingly. "I'm really proud of you for driving," he added.

I am pretty proud of myself too.  It is never easy facing a fear, but I'll continue to face this one until it is conquered.

Middle School. . . Here We Come!

6 years ago I sat down at my computer and wrote a blog post on a now defunct blog called "As the Diaper Fills".  I wrote the post in tears because I had just come from Kindergarten orientation.  I was shocked that the preschool years had flown by and my baby, B, was going to be entering the world of "Big Girl School".  I was in tears because my sweet girl was growing up so fast.

Fast forward 6 years and my sweet B is finishing up her wonderful elementary school years.  Elementary school was a fantastic time for B.  She is a kid who truly loves school.  She loves her teachers, her friends and oddly enough, even her homework.  I remember that first day of Kindergarten.  B looked so small and tiny, but she didn't cry.  I cried enough for both of us after I got home from dropping her off on that morning.

I shouldn't be surprised that these past 6 years have flown by and yet I am.  With each passing year of elementary school, I knew it was one year closer to the big MS (middle school) and yet, it still felt so far away.  Now, I'm sitting on the brink of B's last day of elementary school (still 3 weeks away, but if the past 6 years flew by in a blink of an eye, surely these 3 weeks will fly by in a flutter) and Middle School is looming closer and closer.

In my mind middle school is a scary place with mean teachers and meaner kids.  It's a huge place where incoming 6th graders will get eaten up and spit out before getting stomped on.  I think I'm more frightened of the idea of middle school than the actual incoming 6th graders are!

All of my fears were squelched tonight.  The Doctor and I attended the Middle School's orientation for parents of incoming 6th graders.  All of the teachers and administration who spoke weren't scary at all!  They made their subjects sound interesting and all cited fun ways of helping the students learn.

The band played beautifully and tears pricked my eyes as I imagined B sitting on the stage next year playing her flute for the newbie parents.  When some of the students got up to talk about how wonderful Middle School is I started thinking, "Maybe this won't be so bad after all."

One of the science teachers gave a brief speech on what the 6th graders would be doing in Science and I got goosebumps.  B absolutely adores science and her biggest beef with elementary school is she only gets to do science once in a while as opposed to every day.  As the science teacher was speaking I wanted to leap up and shout, "Yes!  B will love this!"

After the orientation was over and we were walking out a student from Middle School opened the door for us.  "What grade are you in?," I asked her, just before walking through.

"Sixth," she replied with a smile.

"Did you enjoy school this year?," I asked, hoping my voice sounded light and not too interrogating.

"Oh yes!," she exclaimed, with a huge smile.  "I loved it!  It was so much better than elementary school!"

Perhaps the actual Middle School isn't quite as scary as the middle school in my mind is.  I'm still terrified that B will get eaten alive, but perhaps that's just fear of my sweet girl growing up so fast.  6 years flew by so fast. . . I can't begin to imagine how quickly the 3 of middle school will.

The Last is the Hardest

Before I begin, my apologies.  I realize I left you in silence for the better part of 6 months.  I have thought about writing nearly every day but things became crazy and by the time I had a moment to sit down at the computer, all I wanted to do was crawl into bed.  It was a whirlwind of PTO, Yearbook and other various school activities, but things are wrapping up and I should be back to normal for the Summer craziness.

L is turning 6 tomorrow.  She is my last; my baby.  I was so excited when B and M turned 6.  It meant they were giant girls!  When B was 3 she hated being called a little girl so we called her a big girl, but when she wanted to do something that was meant for someone older than 3, I couldn't tell her it was for big girls because she felt like that was where she was categorized.  I tried, once, to tell her and she ended up in tears because, "I am a big girl, Mommy!  I'm not a little girl!"  So, I coined the phrase "Giant Girl" and described it as a girl who is 6 years old, goes to school every day and wears barrettes in her hair (because B insisted on the wild hair look, which oddly 8 years later she has taken up again). A big girl couldn't chew gum, but a giant girl could!  A big girl couldn't stay up late, but giant girls could!

The phrase stuck and the big milestone for The Curly Girly Trio was becoming a giant girl and getting to chew gum.  L is my last big girl. . . As of tomorrow, I will have 3 giant girls.  L has been looking forward to this day for so long.  She's excited about the cupcakes she'll get at school, the ice cream cake she'll get at home and of course the presents.  She's especially excited about getting to chew gum like her big (giant) sisters do.

Putting her to bed tonight, I said, "Enjoy your last night as a 5 year old.  When you wake up tomorrow, you'll be 6!"

"EEEK!," she screeched, in a very ungiant girl manner. "I know!  I'm so excited!  It's my birthday!"

As I was wrapping her presents, it dawned on me.  I am never going to have a 5 year old again.  I would love to say that I love all my girls' ages at every age, but I'm going to be blatantly honest.  11 stinks.  The preteen attitude is already making me want to pull out my hair.  She's not even a teenager yet and I'm already getting back talk, tone, eye rolling, door slamming and some sort of primal grunt.  I can only imagine this will get more fun as she enters the teen years.  Ages 4 and 5 are wonderful, though.  I am the best Mommy ever (I know it's true because L tells multiple times a day).  I get hugs and more hugs, because one isn't enough.  I'm not ready to let this stage go, and yet I have no choice but to move on, keeping only my memories in my heart.

School picture day was last Monday.  The girls wear uniforms, but on School Picture Day, they can wear whatever they want (within reason).  L wanted to wear her favorite "ice cream outfit".  This was an outfit that I bought for B when she was 4.  It's a light blue shirt with a triple scoop ice cream cone on it and a white skort with polka dots that match the blue and the colors of the ice cream.  There are even matching socks (gone are the days when I bought matching socks and bows for every outfit).  B loved this outfit, M loved this outfit and L loved this outfit.  After L put it on, I took one look at her and said, "My love, it's too small on you.  I'm sorry, but you'll have to pick something else."  She burst into tears and went back to her room, sobbing hysterically.  She pleaded and cajoled, but to no avail.

"Please don't give it away," she hiccuped.

"I know how very much you love this outfit, my sweet," I said.  "Don't you think we should share it with another little girl so she can love it just as much?"

After a few minutes of thinking, L agreed that it would be nice to let another little girl love it too.  She gave it to me, and I put it in the laundry room (AKA: my catch all room).  As I was cleaning off the counter tonight, I saw the outfit and picked it up to put it in the Give Away bag and you know what?  I couldn't do it.

When B outgrew it, I wasn't upset because I knew M would wear it.  When M outgrew it, I wasn't sad because I knew L would wear it.  Now that L has out grown it, I feel all sorts of sad.  Is this how it's going to be?  Will I feel sad with every little milestone L has?  Will I be crying tears of happiness at B's graduations and tears of sadness at L's?  How is that fair to L?  She needs to see it's OK to grow up and become her own person, but how can she see that if at every turn I'm standing there with tears running down my face?

I never knew the last would be so hard.  They say the youngest is often babied the most and perhaps that's because it's just too difficult to let go.