Wednesday, August 3, 2011

numb, with a slight paralysis of the shoulder.

I'm posting.

Today was hard.

Not for me.

For Millie.

She's in 1st now.

And the genius of Junie B. Jones is that it's almost real. Like looking in a mirror. At my daughter.

1 week of school in. Full days. And she has turned into this talk-a-tive, non-listening, hyper child.

Today I received my first phone call from the school. Panic attack, until I heard Millie's voice:
Mom. I need you to bring me a shirt. I spilled all over my shirt. Come now. I'm in the office.
I'm there. And her shirt, yellow and new for the school year, had chocolate running down the front with a bunch of strawberry smatterings for highlight.

Today was her first time purchasing school lunch. And her mother never taught her to drink from the chocolate milk cartons without a straw.

And her teachers moved her desk. Why?
Because they said that it would be better for me.
What does that mean? Has she been misbehaving? Non-stop talking? A problem student?

That wasn't the case last year. But all of a sudden her talking switch has been turned on, and every new person she meets tells me "she certainly likes to talk."

And the girl that I know who so badly wants to get to pink, is bumped warning and then informs me:
When my teacher gets mad and says, "Millie this is your warning!", I just cross my eyes like this.
And then she crosses her eyes.

Wish she would do that with me. Instead, I get yelling, crying, screaming, door slamming, apologies that then meld back into our cycle 'o' fatigue. For I am sure that is the cause. Right? Right?

I'm saying right. Cause it makes me feel better. And what if I hadn't been home today?