Will it ever stop tugging at my heartstrings to see my kid taking her leave of me?
Don't get me wrong - I am perfectly happy to let her go. Thrilled, most mornings. I couldn't wait for her to leave this morning, as she was cranky and copping a major attitude. I can confidently assure you of my heartfelt wish that the bus arrive NOW after an hour and a half of the eye rolling, selective hearing (seriously: she was looking right at me as I clearly and crisply enunciated the words "Please clear your plate right now" and all she did was continue to look at me, utterly blankly, as though my mouth had not just opened and her native language poured forth) and "Whatevering" that was tossed my way, not to mention the hands on the hips, dramatically heaved sighs coupled with mutterings under her breath and the occasional "Mo-ooom!" for that final, finishing touch to completely stomp all over my very. last. nerve. Hoo boy, was I ready for her to head off to school and leave me in the relative peace and quiet of the house.
And yet... watching those skinny, little legs poking out from under the ginormous, Princess backpack disappear up the steps and onto the bus, and then seeing the tiny, tiny hand waving goodbye and flashing the "I Love You" sign out the window, even as her face turned away and she began merrily chatting with her seatmate.... tug, tug, tug on the heartstrings once again. Gets me every time.
So, she's in first grade now. I'll be totally over the tugging at the heartstrings by middle school, right? High school? College? *sniff* I'm the tiniest bit afraid I won't be, and also the tiniest bit afraid that I will.