We're really doing it, Harry!

Yesterday got away from me altogether, so I'm only getting to this now—but holy wow was it a wild and perfect day! If those little cartoon birds could've flown through Margot's window to help her get dressed in the morning, they would've – but it's hovering around 50 degrees in the mornings here lately, so we're all just doing our best to slide into our sweaters and not whine too much about how it's too early and somebody put us back to bed for the love of god PLEASE. 

I digress.


Here are the two things I can tell you with certainty: 

1) She ain't scared. Not in the slightest.
2) I drove myself sick with a stress cold. (Scheduling a job interview on the same morning as the first ever day of school sounded good at the time, but was rough to pull off unscathed, it turns out. Consider me absolutely scathed.) 

Clearly one of us had this shit in the bag all along, and the other one was letting her brain turn her body into a cortisol factory. So Margot's blowing kisses, and I'm just blowing my nose. 

Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined how chill she would be in the face of all this: a new building, a new crowd of kids varying MADLY in their own levels of emotional baggage, and an entirely new and structured environment when what she's otherwise accustomed to is sleeping in til 10 every morning (really) and wiling away her days at her own pace with not an ounce of structure in sight. But she rocked it. She was a source of comfort for her ultra-uncertain best girl Freyja, she poked so slowly through lunchtime that all she managed to eat was a few carrot sticks and a muffin, and she gave herself a sanctioned slice of alone time during recess when the crowd got too unruly for her taste—and all the while, she was the picture of FINE, she assures me. I believe her. 

It was hard for me not to cry when we dropped her off. (I did, but not until after she was gone. I'm not an idiot, guys.) You know I'm an empath—I couldn't help but feel for the handful of kids who were buckling under the weight of their fear; they wept and clung to their mothers, while I buckled under the weight of my inability to make them well. But. Margot was solid. She was curious, she was distracted and attentive all the same, and best of all, she was wholly unaffected by our parting. She adores her teacher, and her teacher, I can easily tell, adores her and every single other one of her students. We got lucky. 

I'll say this until I'm blue in the face: I have no idea how we got here. I swear I gave birth to this tiny miracle, oh, five minutes ago? Six at most. It's a wild ride and it's becoming increasingly more obvious which of the two of us is the crier of the family, but I'm okay with it. (Honestly? I actually love blowing my nose so it's fine.) And anyway, I'm straight up moonwalking over the ease of this when I'd been so worried—the pleasant surprise, the delight and the adventure of it all. 

So far, so indescribably good.