I cried on the way to work today.  No - that's not true...I almost cried on the way to work today.  You know that inner fight you have when your eyes are burning and you can't swallow and you blink hard and fast and shake your head because if you actually let go and sob you'll be a puffy, red-eyed, mess when you walk into staff meeting in seven minutes?  That's what I did.  And this is why:  LIAM.  That kid is going to be the death of me.

I thought we had it worked out.  On Monday he was excited for his next day of school.  This morning?  Not so much.  He was adamant. "I don't want to doe to tool!!!!"  The lip quiver started when I finally got him in the car.  "Tool is da tudipist ting, EVER!!!!"  He was sniffling as I walked him to the door.  By the time we were hanging up his coat and putting on his indoor shoes, tears were running.  I hugged him.  He got snot on my sweater.  He wouldn't let go of me.  I had to peal him off.  By the time I got him on the carpet he was in full melt-down mode: tears, snot, sobbing hysterics, face twisted painfully, shoulders shaking like he was attached to a 1950's Vibrating Belt.  Like I was abandoning him.  Like I was the worst mother in the world.  Like I couldn't possibly love him if I would force this punishment on him.  Like I must hate him.

And so I drove to work, fighting the cry fight, trying to convince myself that this is just a phase and that I didn't need to turn around and rescue him because when he just gave up and accepted the inevitability of school he might actually like it.

It was with dread that I waited outside the kindergarten doors at the end of the day.  What would his mood be?  Would he hate me?  Would he still be sobbing inconsolably - confirming that nagging fear I'd had in the back of my head as I sat at my desk all day?  Of course, my fears were unfounded.  He came bounding out the door, coat buttons askew, backpack hanging off his shoulders, eyes sparkly and bright.  "Today was da best day, EVER!!!!!"  He hugged me.  I was forgiven.  He skipped his schizophrenic Liam-skip.  "I didn't even cwhy dat long!"


Whew!  I can breath again.  If this is going to be the pattern for the rest of the year I may have a nervous break-down.