Dancing her way through preschool

If anyone has ever tried to talk to Charlotte, well, you'll know why we've been concerned about her starting preschool. She doesn't talk to strangers. She doesn't talk to people she knows if it's a new situation. Sometimes she doesn't even talk to people she knows in familiar situations. This is Charlotte.

When I first started going to a mom's group two years ago, I had to drop her off in the childcare room. She cried the ENTIRE time I was gone. Entire time, people. She was still crying when I got back almost two hours later. At church on Sundays, she would refuse to go into the nursery. That meant sitting with us in the pews for the whole hour-long service.

I signed her up for gymnastics with her little friend Ella last November. She loved it when she was out there, jumping, turning, flipping. But, she refused to go out for her class until Ella was there. Every. Single. Time. Ella was usually late, so I would sit there with a clingy 2-year-old in my lap watching class until Ella showed up.

Ella quit gymnastics after one session, but Charlotte really loved it, so I knew we had to stick it out. It took a lot of time, but eventually she started going out without crying and fussing. Seriously, it took months, but it eventually it happened.

So, needless to say, I was worried about preschool starting. I had signed her up for the 3-year-old class at the same preschool Molly used to attend. As the time started approaching, I started getting more and more nervous. The week before preschool started, the school had a meet-the-teacher time. We had a 9 o'clock appointment to meet Miss Patty in the Panda Room.

Cory and I were both going to go with Charlotte, but I forgot the paperwork for the school, so I turned around halfway and let Cory take Charlotte. I was a couple minutes late and walked into the class to see Charlotte clinging to Cory and burying her head into his shoulder. She absolutely would not look at Miss Patty. She absolutely would not talk to Miss Patty. She absolutely would not take a picture for Miss Patty.

Do you think I'm exaggerating to make a good story? Yeah, no, I'm not.

This is the picture Miss Patty took to put on the wall. Lovely, no?

Alright, so after that disaster of a meeting, I got even more nervous about preschool. Being my baby, I've become rather attached to Charlotte. Meaning, not only was I nervous about how she was going to do, I was also nervous about how I was going to do without her.

Marathon Woman

In case you missed it, I'm currently in the throes of training for the 2013 Chicago Marathon. This will not be my first marathon. It will be my third. But, if you'd asked me after either of my others, I would've told you that I would not do another one.

As I stared at my blackened toenails and hobbled gingerly down all flights of stairs after my first one in Dallas, I swore up and down that I was a one-and-done marathoner.

Feeling victorious ...

but, completely dead after the Big D in 2006.

Then, I had a couple kids, and felt the need to prove to myself that I could still do it. So, I signed up for another one. This time, I swore 'round about mile 24 of the Route 66 marathon in Tulsa, OK, that I would never do this to myself again.

With Sarah, who I peer pressured into running. That was it for me. I was done in 2010.

Well, it's three years later, and somehow I got peer pressured into signing up for another one. This time in Chicago. I was excited about going on a trip with my girlfriends, but the daunting training miles and 26.2 race miles were not all that exciting for me. Don't get me wrong, I would do it, but I wouldn't be super happy about it.

So, with all these training miles and running constantly on my mind, I happened across a blog that mentioned the autobiography of Kathrine Switzer. Switzer is the first woman to run with a number in the Boston Marathon in 1967. She's also the woman made famous by this series of pictures:

Switzer being chased by race director Jock Semple who was yelling, "Get the hell out of my race and give me those numbers!"

Although she'd officially registered, she'd done so using her initials, K.V., so they didn't know she was a woman. Race officials, clearly, were not happy when they found out, as women weren't supposed to run. I'd heard of this story before and knew of Switzer, but didn't know a ton about her. So, of course I was intrigued by the thought of a book by her. 

Wait?!? What?!? I have a 1st grader?!?

I know everyone says the same thing when school starts each year, "I can't believe my kid has gotten so big." "I can't believe school is back in session." "They are growing up way too fast."

Yes, those are all cliches, but oh, man, they are so true. I thought every single one of those this morning as I walked Molly to her first day of first grade. Seriously, 1st grade?!?! I still remember them handing her to me in the hospital and not even thinking that school was anywhere close to my future. I distinctly remember hearing other moms talk about their kids going to school and I couldn't even comprehend anything about it because it was so far from my realm.

Man, it did not take long for me to be smack dab in the middle of that realm. I don't remember okaying that.

Molly, however, has been super excited for school to start. She loves school. She's never been nervous about it at all. For her first day of preschool, she jumped out of the car, waved her hand and said, "Bye, Mom!" without even a hug or kiss. I've never had to worry about her being sad or nervous for school. Me, on the other hand?

I know I should be used to this. I did it last year. I had the whole sobbing in front of the school librarian after dropping her off at Kindergarten fiasco. But, I'm still sad. She's my baby. I've been hugging her a little bit longer and squeezing her a little bit tighter these last couple days, just trying to steel myself up for today.

And, today came: