Nothing to see here. Just a small panic attack.

At the ripe old age of 25, I can't help but feel old. My oldest started summer school last week in order to prepare her for kindergarten in the fall. My youngest is no longer a baby and is already starting to defy me at 16 months. Where have my babies gone? They've grown. They're babies no more. And this mommy doesn't like it, not one bit.

I know that it's exciting when they do new things - Jocelyn can tie her shoes and has lost her first two teeth, not to mention she knows how to work the TV all by herself. Jericho has been walking for 8 whole months already and is talking and communicating with us, and although I always get a little misty-eyed when a new milestone happens, I have officially reached my breaking point with this whole "school" thing.

Last week I was getting Jocelyn all ready for her first day of summer school and was excitedly packing her bag and helping her pick out her outfit for the next day and I was so proud.(Honestly I was just excited that I had kept her alive for this long. I can kill a ficus in like 3 days.) But then came the moment that changed it all - I broke out the checkbook and began writing. "Smithville Elementary School, $36, lunch money..." and that was it. I freaking lost it. Joel heard a small whimper out of me and asked what was wrong. I slowly turned around, lump in my throat and eyes full of tears. "Lunch money," I said in a squeaky voice. He stared back at me with one of those puzzled/"are you serious?" looks, and kind of turned his head, like your dog does the first time you throw a stick and expect him to fetch it. "It's lunch money," I told him as I held up the check, preparing for my full-on ugly cry (you know the one). "Oh kaaaay..." he replied slowly, still obviously puzzled by my fragile emotional state. I, of course, became angry that he wasn't comforting me and stormed off. As if he had magically channeled Miss Cleo and knew why I was having mental breakdown for no apparent reason.

See, for me writing this check was huge. Writing her a check for lunch money was this awakening to the fact that she's not a baby anymore. She wouldn't be at daycare with someone cutting her PB&J into 4ths because she likes it better that way than in 1/2. And no one would be telling her that it was ok if she was full and making sure she wiped her face. She would now be at school. In a cafeteria. Where no one would care if her face was a mess and no one would care if she ate all of her lunch. What if she talked over the whole lunch period and didn't eat anything? WHAT IF SHE STARVED?! Ok, that last one may be a stretch, but you know what I mean. Now it's only a matter of time before she has a new best friend (I'm her BFF now), then I'm "totally not cool", then she hates me, then she leaves for college, then she gets married and it's all just happening too fast and I just can't handle it all right now.

So I had my little mental breakdown and then came back to this little place we call Earth and realized that there was a small chance that I was over exaggerating, like I do. She's growing, and that's ok. I've only known that this time was coming and had time to prepare for this moment for the last 5 years, but it's so different when it actually gets here.

So her first day came and went and although they boarded her on the wrong bus and nearly dropped her at our empty home instead of at daycare, she lived to tell about it. And so did I.