The Inevitable Meltdown

It had all been going so well. Miranda acclimated to all the new changes of this year like a CHAMP! New school? Check. Bus routine? Check? New gymnastics class? Check. Kindergarten enrichment classes at her daycare? Check. 

It's been a whirlwind few weeks of activities, and changes and my daughter has blown me away with her adaptability and resiliency. We attended an Ice Cream Social at her school on Friday night, and before I knew what was happening, she was in line to do the limbo with a bunch of kids she did not know. She was laughing and sweating and having a great time.

Yesterday was her first day of Hebrew school. It's different than when I was growing up. We were all in the sanctuary singing songs and Gary leaned over to ask Miranda a question. With her eyes shut and her hands in the air, she shushed him because she was busy feeling the music. At one point, I thought she might ditch the zookeeper idea and consider rabbinical college!

Today we woke up, had breakfast, talked a bit about our weekend, and when it was time, we walked outside to the bus stop. We chatted with the neighbor kids and commented on the cooler temps. All was good.

Slowly the bus pulled up. One of the girls in Miranda's class rushed ahead to be first in line. Miranda had already told this girl that she wanted to be the first on the bus. The other girl, also five, either did not hear her or did not care. As soon as she jumped in front of Miranda, my daughter burst into tears.

So there I am, standing in my gym clothes and a ponytail, THIS close to being able to go for a walk, when my kid COMPLETELY BREAKS DOWN. Giant tears start streaming down her face. The other kids get on the bus. Miranda throws herself into my arms and will not get on the bus. She is crying and whining, and the cars are getting impatient waiting, and the kids are staring and wondering what is going on.  I am fiercely trying to bargain and beg with a temperamental kindergartner to just sit on the darn bus and go to school, and I will make sure that the next time she takes the bus, she will be first in line.

I finally boarded the bus myself and got her into a seat. I heard the bus driver yell, "Run mom!" and I leaped off the bus, waved to the yellow blur as it pulled away, popped in my earbuds and went for a walk. I was sad and angry and frustrated and most of all, I felt like a failure.

Did I let my daughter down? Have I not given her the skills to deal with what happens when she does not get her way? Have a failed her? 

One mile in, I started to calm down. "She's 5", I kept repeating in my head. She has had dozens of changes in the past month. She is doing great, all things considered. This behavior was just a blip. I hope.

She will be home in an hour.  I just found this picture on my phone. I do not know how my camera got turned on in the struggle. Sigh.

I am sharing all of these details because it's real life. We are not all kitty cats and rainbows. 

Nobody is.

The Wheels on the Bus

The first time Miranda rode on a school bus was several years ago. We went to Longwood Gardens with some friends, and we had to park at an auxiliary lot and take a bus to the actual venue. Miranda and her friend Sammy shared a seat, as the anxious parents stared in disbelief. No car seats, no seat belts, no fear. They loved the bus more than anything that day.

The next time Miranda rode a bus was last summer. Her camp had weekly field trips in which buses were needed. Often, Gary and I heard more about the bus and who she sat with, then the actual field trip.

Fast forward this past summer, when she had field trips and swim lessons, so she was on the bus twice a week. 

The day before school started this year, all of the parents and students in Kindergarten got to experience a trial bus ride. Miranda has pretty much become a bus expert.

Today, Miranda took the bus to kindergarten for the first time. She will only ride it on the days she is not in daycare, and today was one of those days.

She barely made it into her seat before I started to cry.

Gary must have expected that I was going to lose it as he stayed home this morning to help me put her on this bus.

It's one thing to know she is going to take the bus to school. It's quite another to let your baby climb those steps, pick a seat, wave goodbye, and then just be gone.

When I was pregnant with Allie, I would see the big yellow bus drive by, and I would get so excited that she would one day be on that bus. When Allie died, the same bus would taunt me from the street, driving right by our house as there was no child to be picked up or dropped off.

Today that changed.

Today it all came rushing back.

Today I am sad. And happy. And relieved. And grateful. And pretty much every other emotion, too.

It's hard to be a parent. It's especially hard to be a parent after loss. You get smacked in the face with old memories and hopes as you are literally in the middle of making new ones.

I am so proud of Miranda. I am also so proud of me. I let her get on that bus. I encouraged her, even. I think what makes me a good mom is putting Miranda's needs first, even at the expense of my own needs sometimes.

The key is to also make sure my needs are met. I went for a long walk after the bus pulled away. I logged on and did some work. Now I am writing. And at 12:02, I will be standing on that curb, jumping up and down, waiting to see my baby as she gets off the bus. Then we have the rest of the day to play.

Sounds like a pretty good day if you ask me.

Waiting for the bus

Away she goes!