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Last week I was all excited and proud about my little diva finally braving Grade One, feeling victorious after our setback last year at her being accelerated but emotionally unprepared for elementary.  I might have spoken too soon.

After the Independence Day holiday last week, Nadine has again started to cry whenever I get ready to leave her in her classroom.  Up until now, just this morning, tears streamed down her cheeks as she anticipated my leaving for work.

Last Monday, I confronted her at lunch time as to why she was still crying whenever I leave.  She does not seem to have any problem with her new teacher and as we check her notebooks every night it seems she is doing well in her classes.  So I asked her if anyone in class, or anyone in school for that matter, was bullying her.  (Off the record:  As I asked this I was slowly morphing into warrior-mother beast-mothersmother mode, ready for combat, in case she says yes.)  She said no.  So I asked her why she was crying, and she said she missed staying with me the rest of the day.  It was such an “awww…” moment.  I have been so far proud of not having a nanny for more than three years now, and taking care of (most) household duties myself.  Although I had several chances to engage the services of a new helper all those years, I decided to go hands-on witheverything and actually enjoyed every moment I could fixing stuff, whipping up (a few) dishes (occasionally…Hubby was much better in the kitchen), taking care of our Tres Mikaelas.  Every chance I got I brought her to the office where she spent her time either playing with the tablet, writing or coloring sketch pages, or sleeping all afternoon. I did not foresee that being that hands-on would now haunt me back, because she now claims she misses spending time with me, just being around me in the afternoons.  She probably even has my gloomy moods on rainy afternoons, when the perfect antidote would be to lie in bed under the sheets, cuddling with them.  Now Mike and I are again at a loss,  and unsure of whether we should start doing the “bad cop – good cop” bit, and seemingly threaten her that I would no longer bring her to school if she keeps on crying every day.

But I am convinced that we can pull her out of this rut real soon.  On my way back to work this yet another overcast afternoon listening to Pink blare in my mobile (Just give me a reason…just a little bit enough…), I said a little prayer for our little diva.  I know she would pull through but I am at a loss as to exactly how to do it without causing her any more heartache and trouble than what she thinks she already has.

In a couple of months, or years (hopefully the latter, or still much, much later…), I may find myself in the same situation this time with problems of young love and heartaches.  I will not run out of little prayer moments for my girls, and for us parents, because there may be times it’s all we’re left with…it may be our best weapon, along with our trust in the fact that we raised them well enough to make good choices for themselves.  Sometimes there is that feeling of inadequacy at parenthood where there is actually no academic theory that holds true for all as exact and as constant as the law of inertia, nor any practice to perfect the craft.  Bittersweet “extra challenge”, I should say, but all worthwhile.

If you are at the end of your rope…untie the knot in your heart.” (Cooper Edens)


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