(The part of calm, rational Toni will be played by a cranky pregnant psychopath until sometime after the new year.)
We came. We saw. We shipped our baby off across the country.
The last week of school is over. Cheyenne graduated high school. She and all her sweet friends are now entering that scary phase of life where they’ll be learning lessons that no class or essay or online tutorial can teach them.
Oh yeah, and an evil man came and swept my precious 4-year old away with a new car and a well-paying summer job. (Please refer to the disclaimer at the beginning of the post.) Add in a scholarship to a super-scientifical school far away from boring old smalltown Oklahoma and I couldn’t compete even if I wanted to.
And it isn’t fair, because even though I made my share of mistakes as a parent, I was the one who got up with her fifteen times a night for the first two years of her life. I held her down while she got her shots and I cradled her afterwards. I changed the disgusting diapers and I got the spit-up on every article of clothing I owned. And I was the one who read a thousand books a day and who walked her to the park and who taught her how to paint. And it was me who braided her hair on the first day of school and tied her shoes and forced her to eat anything other than chicken nuggets for dinner. And I’m the one who held her hand and tried to comfort her on the way to Oklahoma. I dealt with more preteen mood swings than should ever occur in the natural world. I cried over her long-division homework. I was ridiculed when I accidentally burned hotdogs at sleepovers.
Don’t even get me started on the teen years.
Things she did not get from me during all that time: Drive. Focus. Math and science skills. Logic.
I should be so happy that Cheyenne’s dad is able and willing to help her out, and that they are close. I know that she is smart and capable and more than ready for this journey. And I know parents are supposed to be parents and not best friends to their children…but…my best friend is gone. And it. SUCKS.
In other news, Mia took all of one hour to totally, utterly, and completely move into Cheyenne’s old room. She is loving life except for the fact that she randomly bursts into tears at the thought of her missing older sister. (Like mother like daughter I guess.) Merrick is only semi-excited about his own man-cave, as he calls it. You’d think having an entire bunkbed to himself would seem appealing to a 6-year-old, but you would be wrong. He is so lonely. It does seem to cheer him up, though, that he’s able to put his entire shoe collection on display, thanks to double the closet space now that Mia’s stuff is out of the picture.
I never realized how tight of a fit it’s been with three kids of varying ages back in that hallway. We just made it work, and I thought it was working great. This is actually the perfect house for a family of four. Too bad we’re once again toying with the balance in three months. I guess that’s what the new house is for. We can have ten more kids in that bad boy! Granted, it’d be 3 or 4 to a room, but yay for family togetherness, amirite?!
I love parenting.
Except for that whole off-to-college thing.