“I want you to get the kiss off”

So. Preschool.

Max first day of school

I had prepared The Boss well, he knew exactly what would happen. How the day would go and he was very excited about it. School. SCHOOL!  We woke early and he patiently allowed us to take about 300 pictures before we hopped in the car to go. He was very anxious and gleefully pointed out every school bus we saw along the way. That kid can spot a school bus a mile away. Literally.

I was glad to see so many other parents there taking pictures and fighting off tears. TOTT and I walked Max in, got him settled and then…

Max at school!

Then I walked away.

Max at work

And cried.

Not where Boss could see of course, but I did cry. I was surprised that every motherly instinct in my body was screaming


But I did. And he had so much fun. He was thrilled to see me when the day was over. And I was thrilled to see him.

you came back!

I couldn’t hug him tight enough. We came home, had lunch and rested.


Thursday was day two, would it go as well as day one?

“Mommy, we are going to school and you have to walk away and then I will play with the nice kids and when school is over you will come back”

boss day 2 of school

I guess so!

“Teacher is going to say to me *insert Boss’ full name here* do you want to play with some toys and I will say yes, teacher”

My heart!

He practically raced into the school, waiting impatiently for the classroom to be open. A parent told him they liked his Buzz Lightyear backpack and Boss informed them that Buzz was cool because he could fly. I asked if he could fly and he said “No mommy, I have legs!” So, there ya go. He kept saying I love my school over and over, it was so sweet! His teacher came out and told me how well he had done on his first day and I thanked her. I wanted to hug her and cry thank you for taking such good care of my baby! but I thought that might be a touch too much.

I kissed the palm of his hand, the way mumsy had mine, and told him if he needed a kiss during the day he could just take that one. He said emphatically I want you to get the kiss off. I suppose you really can’t play when you’re trying to keep a kiss in your hand. Teacher said “who wants to paint?” Boss raised his hand high and yelled ME! Taking off like a shot he was first in the room running straight to his chair. I called him back and made him give me a kiss goodbye, which he did happily and then raced back in the room. Unable to just walk away I followed him in and got him settled kissed his chubby cheek and left.

max day 2 paint

Wow. My kid continues to amaze me,and I continue to be amazed at how powerful the love I have for him is.This is the first step out of the nest for us. We did okay. Even if I did cry a little in my soy latte.

Helter Skelter.

When you have postpartum anxiety, as I do, you can be feeling fine, taking your meds, and using the breathing exercises you’ve been taught and then suddenly its like that scene in JAWS. You know the one where the lovely bikini clad woman is happily swimming along and then is suddenly pulled underwater by some unseen terror. That’s me this week. Apparently the trigger is duh nuh duh nuh {JAWS theme} preschool. The terror is at night, and this time it’s rearing it’s ugly head in my dreams. The dreams, oh the dreams! The nightmares.  I was unprepared for this because my first go around with Postpartum Anxiety I never slept. Ever.  Even if we could get The Boss to sleep, I was unable to rest, watching him like a hawk praying that he would make it through the night, that he would wake in the morning. It was terrifying.

This time I have an equally sweet little baby boy, but Huck? Huck sleeps. Praise sweet baby Jesus. And while he slumbers, making sweet little baby sighs and snores, I’m having nightmares. The dreams involve a circular metal elevator with no walls and a boy falls from it, becoming trapped underneath. Or The Boss being trapped in a covered turnstile almost being crushed ( I manage to free him and then steal an ergo and babywear my 40 lb 3 year-old. I don’t believe we need Freud to interpret this). Last night it involved leaving a small baby behind with a clearly unfit caregiver as The Boss and I walked away in the dark unprotected into danger. Sophie’s Choice. It doesn’t take a CSI team to solve the mystery of where these dreams are coming from or why they’re occurring. The mystery of how to let them go is harder to solve.

I thought I had a real handle on my PPA this time. Once I started having the panic that someone had put Huck in the oven I took quick action. Knowing this wasn’t a normal level of panic made it easy to recognize what was going on and get help. I would hold Huck at night and tell myself over and over ‘He is not in the oven. He is right here and safe” much the same way I would repeat “Max is safe, he is not underwater” a million times a night with The Boss. The only difference this time is knowledge. It only took me from Saturday when I first noticed my symptoms till Monday morning to call my doctor. Last time Max was 18 months old before my doctor asked the magic question and it all poured out.

But I digress.

The dreams…what to do? I wake, sweaty and in a panic; resisting the urge to race into The Boss’s room and scoop him up. That is what’s best for ME, but not what’s best for him. What’s best is for him to rest. Even at 3 sleep is still elusive for my boy, I don’t dare disturb it. He deserves a mom who is confident and never lets on that preschool is terrifying. For mommy, that is. If he were to bring something like that up then I, as mommy, need to reassure and calm him. Even if I am hysterical on the inside.

I am surprised by this panic because I do want him to go to preschool. I adore his teacher. He is more than ready – other than that pesky potty business- he wants friends. He wants to play. I make a silent promise to him every day not to let my worry prevent him from happiness. I will not infect my baby with my issues.

It’s so hard! Especially when he talks non-stop of the roundabout and wanting it to go faster and faster.

Gee. I wonder where those circular metal images in my nightmares came from?

For now breathing in and out and letting my baby go, well that will have to be enough.

That and Zoloft.


Preschool. A juice box for him and a juice box for me. Mine has vodka in it.

“I’m going to go to school and play games and check my messages.” The Boss

Today is Max’s preschool picnic. It’s happening. He is going to go to school. My tiny boy is going to school! Will he make friends? Will the teachers be kind to him? Will they see how beautiful, sweet and caring he is? Will they protect him from mean kids? For the first time he will be out of my sight. Out of my protection. He cannot wait. I’m just trying not to cry. Over a picnic. How on earth will I survive next Tuesday when I really drop him off…and leave?

Hold me, blogland.