- from "Slipping through my fingers" by ABBA
That song was running through my head the day after the Doodle was born. I lay awake watching her sleep in the bassinet beside my hospital bed. So tiny, yet able to completely turn my world upside down until I couldn't think straight. I didn't want her to grow up. I wasn't prepared for her to grow up. She was barely a full day old, but I was already bracing myself for boyfriends, sleepovers, hormones and wardrobe costs.
A year later, I sat in the car after bringing her to daycare for the first time and bawled my eyes out. Any mom can tell you about the rush of mixed emotions - guilt, melancholy, relief, and an immense sense of pride. Naturally, she adjusted to it faster than I did. (In my defense, I never called the daycare ONCE on that first day. The director thought there was something wrong with me.)
Fast-forward to today. Now they expect me to put my THREE-YEAR-OLD on a BUS? By HERSELF??? (And yes, she's still three. She has another month before she's four. That means she's three.) I had a harder time coming to terms with this than she did; weighed down by a backpack twice her size, she practically skipped on the way to the bus stop, laughing with her little friends. When the bus came, everything happened so fast. Up she went, hanging on to the railing and focusing on finding her seat. I had to ask for a kiss goodbye, and then she was gone, little blond head barely visible in the window.
What a trooper. Wish I could say the same for her mother. (I didn't do too bad, really ... until they started playing Green Day's "Time of Your Life" on the car radio ... curse you, Hot 89.9.)
Slipping through my fingers all the time
I try to capture every minute
The feeling in it
Slipping through my fingers all the time ...