It all started so well. Vivien picked out her outfit. Yes, not surprisingly she ditched the rubber boots fast, I had back up.
And she was very pleased with her new lunch box. I had really been selling that as a cool thing and it seemed to be working. “Your lunchbox, for your school!”
Well, we get there and a lot of parents are trying to leave right away. Many are successful. A few need to hang back. I tried, but Vivien would start crying. So out of her three-hour day, I stayed 2 hours. I would have stayed more, but I did have to go to work.
There was one boy who was so undone, he cried almost nonstop for the entire two hours. I had a knot in my stomach from watching his big tears and sobs. It reminded me of how I was when I’d break up with someone in my 20s.
I insist on some space: “You go in the play yard, I’ll be over here.” Finally during the art project, which she really liked, I told her, “In 20 minutes, I’m leaving,” and then again at 2 minutes. She didn’t freak out. I kissed her, she didn’t freak, and I left.
My friend who works there said she sniffled a bit at lunch and wouldn’t eat. So much for the magic of the new Hello Kitty lunch pail. But when my sister and niece picked her up she was happy to see them and went and swam at my other sister’s house. I threw nap schedule out the window.
I got to work and found out that our show was being moved around this week due to accommodating a special on Brad and Angelina’s new babies. Which was fine with me because it meant I didn’t have to work Tuesday morning and could take and pick up Vivien from school. But, what I got my panties in a bundle about were what Brangelina named their daughter. Vivienne. Harrumph. Now every tabloid-reading pregnant lady is going to use some version of my daughter’s name. Which when she was born was not even in the top 1000 on the social security name list (my religion when I was pregnant was looking up names on that site) and Vivian (with an A) was about 250.
Now I like gazing at Brad and Angie as much as the next Star magazine (plug) reader, but I wanted Viv to have a tad offbeat name like my own… not really off, just a little.
I digress. so I am at work for about an hour, in an editing room with an editor and two producers. The editor says, “How you doing?” A normal question. I burst into tears, “It’s–sob–my daughter’s first day–sob–at preschool.” You get the picture. They were nice. The editor says, “Of course it’s tough, and in 5 minutes she’s getting married.”
Last night I told Vivien we were going back to her school today. She said, “More school? I don’t want to go.” Reaching for the phantom Valium again…