Growing Pains

This is a first for me, er, maybe not. I remember I was very nervous on my daughter’s first day of preschool in Italy. I remember walking back to our house and feeling like I was going to pass out on the sidewalk. This time, I drove her to her first day of middle school. She was supposed to ride the bus and was very excited last night to do so. When the alarm rang at 6 a.m. she asked if I would “PUUUUULLEASE” drive her so she could sleep a little longer. Of course! I wanted to hang on to her for as many more minutes as I could this morning.

On the way home, I thought I was going to throw up in the car. Okay, I hadn’t been feeling all that well lately anyway and had probably picked up a bug at work (or from a shopping cart), but I’m the “cool” mom. I’m the one that has lived out most all her dreams and am even encouraging my daughter’s dream of going to fashion design school in Italy. Uh huh. I should be able to let her go and do and be anything she wants, no matter how far away that takes her from me. At least that’s what I keep telling myself that I should be able to do. Somehow I don’t think I can let her go without me moving back there too. I’m familiar with the country, so what the hell?

This morning should have been no different than any other school year. It’s just a different building, right? But this year, I’m worried. She attended one of four elementary schools in the district. She’s attending the same school where I graduated. Could it be that all my bad experiences on the bus are coloring my peace of mind? You bet your ass they are. I don’t like that the sixth graders are riding the same bus as the high schoolers. Sixth and twelfth together? That’s just asking for trouble. I don’t like that she’s with four other elementary schools’ kids that are probably a little rougher around the edges than she’s accustomed to. She attended the elementary that’s a little more progressive than the others — the curriculum is a little tougher. My graduating class had well over 300 graduates and I’m happy to know that her class will have less than 290. That means less students per teacher. Last year’s ratio was 1:18.

I know the bus thing isn’t the only reason I’m quite nervous about this school year. I analyzed my malaise and can only surmise that it is because I’ve raised her alone. For those that don’t know, I was widowed while I pregnant, so it’s been mom and daughter from the start with a healthy dose of friends and family thrown in for support. My bond with her is still unshakable at the moment; I believe its a result of our years in Italy when we had only the two of us. And although I’m getting plenty of attitude at times, and more hormonal outbursts — she still wants to cuddle with me at the end of the day, still wants her hug and kiss before bed, still wants me to check on her before I go to bed and cover her up, and I still get to call her “lovey” (just not in public).

She came home from school today and was pleased to report that her friends thought it was cool that she was wearing heels, and “fashion” glasses. She told me that one girl even called her a “fashionista.” I’ve no doubt that she’ll want to go back to school tomorrow after such a successful day. I guess now it becomes less about grades and more about how you look while getting those grades! Fabulous…. just as long as the “in” look doesn’t become ‘sexy chic.’ That look is rated ’21 and over’ please.

gloria