Thank Goodness the Glass is Still Half Empty.
In case you ever had occasion to doubt it, payback really is a bitch. After all those years I spent making fun of annoying, sappy, oh-having-kids-is-the-greatest-thing-in-the-world parents, it turns out that I am actually one of them. Somewhere between my son turning two and my daughter turning five, a pod person must have landed in my bedroom and stolen my soul while I was sleeping, replacing my dry cynicism with a sopping wet blanket. I’ve written about this before – when I was interviewed by Savvymiss.com, when my daughter had her fifth birthday – but never before has my transformation, my molting, reached the heights that it did last Friday, when my daughter graduated from preschool.
It’s not enough to say that I was emotional about it. It’s not even enough to say that I cried, or that I was sad. No. I was a downright puddle. I cried whenever I talked about it, I cried whenever I thought about it, and don’t even get me started about how much I cried when the entire Shooting Stars class of 2007 stood up and sang “The Circle Game.” I mean, it was pathetic. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one. The other mothers were all weepy, too, and even Michael got a little choked up during the performance. But hours later, I was still going at it, and I was starting to think I would never, ever be myself again.
That night, after the graduation, Michael and I were lying in bed watching Entourage when I suddenly burst into tears, again. Michael gave me a look that said something along the lines of, enough already, it’s only preschool, mixed in with a dash of what the hell has happened to you. Of course, he was right. It was only preschool, and by the way, what the hell had happened to me? But still, I couldn’t shake it. He hit the pause button on Entourage, and after watching me sob for twenty more minutes, he finally admitted that although he felt bad for me, he didn’t really understand what I was so sad about.