Somewhere along the line I got it into my head that dealing with the emotional fallout of Grier starting school would be minimal and manageable and honestly, not that much of a big deal.
I would characterise Grier's feelings about the whole things as 95% excitement and 5% trepidation. She was boldly going where Brodie had indeed gone before and she just wanted to get started.
Her first morning was lovely. We were all calm and organised and she was shiny clean with pleated hair and a giant backpack. I took the obligatory photographs (Brodie too of course) and we walked to school with Nana and Grandad.. We accompanied her into the classroom and she basically shooed us away as she had better things to do with her time than babysit us, clearly.
And so I made my way home with just Baxter in tow. And checked my watch 85461 times to make sure I wasn't late for pick up. I felt flooded with relief when I saw her walk down the ramp behind her teacher smiling and clutching her first day certificate.
But we didn't make it half way home before there was a major wobble and tears and a gigantic lump in my throat. I soothed her as best I could, a giant chocolate cookie helped. And for the rest of the day we kept things low key.
And probably, maybe, I would have been fine after that. Only I had to work the next day so I couldn't drop her off or pick her up or be there in 5 minutes if she needed me. I mean she had her perfectly capable Daddy for that stuff, but still. So I made sure her hair was neat and tidy and gave her an extra squeeze as she asked me not to leave. Ileft with fat tears rolling down my cheeks. I cried all the 6 miles to work and took a few minutes in the car pack to regain a modicum of composure.
And of course she was fine. I was fine. We are all still adjusting, and stretching and growing and getting used to this new normal routine. But how silly I was to think that just because I've done this once before I wouldn't be overcome with guilt slash sadness slash massive tidal waves of mixedupness.
I miss her so much during the day. I miss her chat and her mess and her crafting and her singing and her outfit changes. But I also get to experience that amazing little high of picking her up after school with one pigtail undone. Some days she's full of stories and new words and sounds and experiences and I see the little girl she is becoming. And some days she's tired and drained and pale and needs a cuddle and I see the baby she was such a short time ago.
They very quickly lost patience with my photo taking and started looking for bugs/tomatoes. Fair enough.