That’s what I have. A Kindergartner and a 2nd grader. Freaks me out! They are huge! Mouthy! Lily even gets sort of bitchy! Arden does everything by herself, even if that means destroying herself in the process! They’re awesome, however - and so funny.
Arden’s first day went splendidly and I remembered to take a bunch of pictures. I promptly forgot to take pictures of her exiting the bus, but let’s face it - I was obnoxious enough for 8 moms during the morning bus pick up. At one point I was body blocking other parents from getting near the bus so I could get my final picture. I want my girls to learn by example, yo.
Lily has decreed that she DOES NOT love 2nd grade and WILL NOT love it. She misses her old school and her old house and the fact that the old house didn’t have “those weird cricket thingies” in it. She misses our neighbor and her children and she probably misses having her daddy around a lot. This was evident when we had the fabulous awkward moment of, “Mommy, do you still love Daddy?” This was spoken to me, in front of Mike. I answered what i would have answered alone or with others - “Yes, and I always will.” Unfortunately his answer, when she asked the same question a few minutes later, was not similar to mine, although it was probably more honest. Frankly I just don’t believe that the kids really need to know anything other than Yes, I Love The Person I Made You With.
The first day was great because Arden was so excited, and Lily was in full-on big sister mode, but having Mike show up to see Arden and Lily off was very hard on all of us. He looked like he wanted to puke the entire time; I felt like I was stuck in a bad movie where only the two of you know you are divorcing and everyone else thinks you’re the new happy family who just rented the house “down the block”. No one saw him driving off as soon as he could, or me going for my run with the music as loud as I could tolerate to drown out the thoughts in my head. Seeing the girls cling to him and scream excitedly when they see him makes me always, without fail, want to wave a magic wand and return our lives to the way we all thought it should be. My pretty house in Wyndham, made for entertaining. My well-dressed children walking down a spotlessly manicured street to see their other well-dressed children, waving to the other kids being driven to school in their Lexuses (Lexi?) or BMWs. Their pretty rooms, their new carpeting, the lush grass, the Labrador (oh wait, they still have that), their bikes and their play dates. It kind of reminds me of how I feel about Thomas Kinkade paintings.
(image source)
At first glance, they are pretty, if not completely expected. You think, “Aww, how cute! What an adorable cottage. I bet fairies live in there!” After about 2 days, you start to get nauseous because of the kitsch and goofiness. After a week, you want to put the painting in the attic because your life looks nothing like that stupid glowy stone thing (perhaps the glow is a kitchen fire? NO!). After a month, you consider using the painting as a floor mat in your car. Not everything with a polyurethane coating on it is actually as glossy as it seems.
Onward we march. My own little cottage in the woods is really a brick rancher in the suburbs (but not overly suburban - let’s be clear about that). Any glow inside it comes from my laptop screen, and there are no fairies here. There is, however, a LOT of estrogen. It’s total Girl Power up in this joint, and we’re all making it the best we can.
In these pictures, you’d never know the girls had been through the most difficult year of their lives. Although I’m sure it won’t be, I’d like to think that it’s going to be the worst year of their life so I can say “CHECK! That’s done. Now they can move onto happily ever after.” If that’s the case, I’d be very, very happy.
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