First day of school. First day of fresh, new, blank slates.

Both girls are attending new schools this year.

B is now in Middle School while E was transferred to a new school that is better suited to her needs.

And I am a nervous wreck sitting here at home.

I vacillate between holding my breath and opening random apps on my phone to keep my mind busy.

Unfortunately, nothing is holding my attention because my attention is illogically waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Logically, I know the school that E is going to, has the resources to help her through her storms.

Logically, I know that we have prepped her as much as we possibly could.

But I can’t help but visit the past, and it’s in that past that my mind can’t help but put down roots.

There is a 3rd of a cake left from Saturday on the top shelf of my mom’s fridge, calling my name.

This morning, I said I would eat a slice to celebrate being kidless for a few hours.

When I got home after dropping off B at middle school, I couldn’t bring myself to eat a slice.

Instead, I decided a slice would best be had before bed when I know my girls are home and survived the day.

Whether they had a good day or a bad day, I just want to hug them tight.

Logically, I know that B will have tons of staff to help her navigate her new world.

Logically, I know we have done all we can to make sure B knows we are proud of her and love her unconditionally.

But I remember middle school. I remember the peer pressure and the bullies.

And I was a straight A, focused student battling only depression.

B, on the other hand, is constantly fighting anxiety, adhd, and self-confidence.

She has a hard time figuring out which shoe goes on which foot. I am struggling to breathe because I cannot be with her 24/7 to help her remember her locker combi or her class schedule.

I know, I know. Eventually she will get the hang of it. But my heart hurts for her.

My soul wants to wrap her in bubble wrap. She is going to fail 100 times, I can feel it in my bones.

No matter what though, our girls are fighters and they will make it through.

Whether they have broken bones, some bruising, or a few scratches will only be determined by time.

In the end, this is a year of fresh slates, blank canvasses, and zero history that has been steeped in darkness.

Maybe I should take a page out of their lives and let go of the past, start anew, and build upon a brand new foundation.

Easier said than done. Change is inevitable but I am scared.

That’s the thing about being a parent, huh? I better get used to this.

I just hope we raised them right.

This is your reminder to breath because the kids are going to be OK, no matter how much of a nervous wreck we are, the kids are going to be OK.

Sometimes we just need to remind ourselves.

In the meantime, Adventure on with Curiosity,
-K. Steele

P.s. eat dessert whenever you want. You deserve it for just existing.