Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches make me nauseous.

I started this post weeks ago and here it is. We are now in Winter Break and thankful to be home for a while…

Today Sophie has been in Pre-K for over a week... I am freaking exhausted. Mentally and emotionally, physically and spiritually. I kinda feel like this:

Morally, ethic'ly , spiritually, physically positively, absolutely, undeniably and reliably….exhausted. Most of my life can be described by lines from the Wizard of Oz.

Last Tuesday we took Sophie to her first day of Pre-K. We did great. We went early, talked to her new teacher, and then left her smiling at a round table playing with some blocks. No worries, no tears. We were happy and heartbroken simultaneously.

Alex and I left hand in hand, got back in the Lexus and started back the 1.4 miles to our home. I was great. I was fine. No stress, no worries, just fine. Then Alex asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee.

For some reason, that brought on the emotional downpour. I thought hurricane season was over, but if you’d seen the giant tears rolling, you would think otherwise. This was a category five.

We don’t HAVE to get a cup of coffee. Says my sweet husband.

I’m not sure what started the tears, maybe the sweet gesture by my husband or the impending emotional flood that I just wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

We pulled into Dunkin’ Donuts, I pulled it together and I got my cup of coffee

I got back in the car and started again, telling Alex all that I was feeling...about how this would be the end of my mornings with Sophie, that Saturday would have a completely new significance, that Sesame Street will only be watched now by Charley, that Charley would be alone with no one to feud or fight with or share the last graham cracker with. This would be the end of sweet cuddly mornings in my bed, and staying messy-haired all day long. This is the last of the three girls and Mommy days.

This is also the end of the endless phone calls to the School Board. The end of wishing for play dates and school friends. This is the end of dreaming of her hand made projects and making little sack lunches for a four year old. I dreamed of those things. I ached for those things. I am living those things now.

But I cannot say that I’m not completely and totally devastated by this huge change in my life.

I remember after having Sophie and going to the commissary by myself. I had just had a baby. But no one knew that. I wanted to scream, HEY, I JUST DELIVERED A VERY SPECIAL BABY LAST WEEK. MY WHOLE WORLD IS DIFFERENT NOW. It was like I wanted other people to know that for some reason. And now I’m walking around with two of my three girls and I want people to know that this is NOT the whole picture. This picture is incomplete without that third little girl. And it just feels weird. For my friends who have had to pass their precious little ones back to Jesus, I ache for them. I think of them when I get my girl back at 12:45 every day…and they will not. Ugh.

Though I wished for Sophie to have time with buddies, and dreamed of having a little more time with my other little girls, I loved having her with me. I loved how different (yet the same) every day was. I loved just spending time.

And now our days are different. We are awake by 7, eating breakfast and getting on our clothes, shoes, hair and teeth brushed…in the van by 7:45 to make it to school by 8. Ug. Just thinking about it exhausts me. Twenty five hours a week away from me, Sophie is doing things that I have no control over. I don’t know what songs she’s singing, what snacks she’s eating, how she’s responding and interacting with those other little boys and girls. I don’t know if her teacher is calling her ‘Sophia’ or Sophie or Soph. I don’t know if her teachers are sensitive to her sensitivities. I don’t know if they know that she has personal space issues or that having the water running too fast scares her. Do they know that she loves music and that every transition we make happens with a song? Do they know that her feelings are hurt easily? Do they know that Sophie is leaving her little Cholla for the first time since they became best friends?

NO. No they don’t. But they will. They will figure her out soon enough. Until then, Sophie and I are growing. We’re growing up and making this ‘natural progression’ toward independence. But can I tell you it sucks?

Can I tell you that if I hear ‘natural progression’ and ‘she needs it’ one more time, I’m going to explode? Can I tell you that it completely rips me apart to have to prepare a lunch that goes into a box? Can I tell you how completely broken I am when I think of Sophie praying and blessing her food alone? It kills me that I don’t hear a ‘thank you mom’ from her. I leave her a note everyday. I write a little love note for her to let her know that it was me that made this lunch for her…that I am loving her from home. And I miss her.

So I don’t know. I don’t know how much longer I will feel these feelings and wonder if I am doing the right thing by taking her to school everyday. People have laughed at me and chided me for the tears. Some have told me to quit, most have told me to pray and that they are praying as well. Many have listened to my voice crack and allowed me to be the Momma that God designed me to be. I will be overprotective, overbearing, overemotional and head over heels in love with that little girl. And yes, I may be the only one that cries over packing a lunch box, but hey, that’s just the way I am. And for some reason, that’s the way it’ll be for now. Peanut butter, jelly, and Momma’s tears sandwiches…