There are times when I think I just may not survive this whole motherhood gig.
As a person, I’m happy-go-lucky, a free spirit. Go where the wind carries me.
As a mother, I am a giant, hairy worry-wart. Neurotic to my very core.

I have not yet found a pleasant balance between the two.
That is why, when my husband and I met with Zoe’s kindergarten teacher today for conferences, she must have thought I was the most unstable individual she has ever come into close contact with.

Everything was going swell. Mrs. H explained how Zoe is in the first grade reading level and flourishing beautifully, she is very well liked in her classroom and goes above and beyond in her writing skills.

Perfect. Enough said. A gold star and pat on the back for mom and dad.
Smile, shake hands, get up from the miniature sized chair and table and modestly walk out of the room, dignity maintained.

But no.
Mrs. H had to pull out the arsenal of pictures and writings that Zoe had worked on this week.
Visual evidence of all the stupor I have worked up in my head of just how incredible this little human being is.
This child that I’ve raised.
This beautiful representation of every wonderful attribute her father and I possess.

And this is the part where my facial cavities opened up and spilled out all over the place.
All over that miniature-sized table.
Right in the presence of Mrs. H.

All she could do, needless to say, was just smile sheepishly and think to herself how amazingly insane this woman is, suddenly bursting into tears for no apparent reason.

And you must understand. This just ISN’T me. I’ve said it before, time and time again.
Honestly, I am not an esthetically overly emotional person.
But this whole first born beginning her school years…. benchmark,…. thing has completely thrown me for a loopty-loop.

And at this point, it would have been great if I could just pull it together, wipe the eyes dry, clean up the raccoon face and sniff all that snot back up from whence it came.

But instead, I felt the ominous creep of the “sobs” wash over me. You know that feeling, where you’re pretty sure you’ve wrapped it up, the crying is out of your system and the steady flow of nasal fluid has subsided. But then it hits you.
The uncontrollable sobbing.

And it was there. I felt it’s presence. It was at it’s very peak, just waiting to throw itself overboard.
But I managed to gain a little composure and finally calmed the hell down!

I’m not sure what it was. Maybe the fact that I only got 4 hours of sleep the night before.
Who knows. Maybe this is just who I’ve become.

This great big Mommy-saurus Rex who lets loose on whoever happens to be standing in close proximity.

I’m sure this has happened to other mothers.

Right?

Please tell me I’m right.