A Different Kind Of Grief

*This post will be less Donna Reed more me.  Probably all me, but we'll see how it goes. =)*

 If you follow me on facebook or know me "in real life" you know that my baby started kindergarten this week.  You know this because I have been obsessing about it.  You are all being so kind and sympathetic/empathetic and yet soon you will be over it and I will need to get it together.  Or more likely, pretend to get it together.  I am trying to keep it in perspective - I really am!

I promise that I understand that I have not lost a child.  I understand that she is entering a new exciting stage in her life and I AM happy for her!  As my sister said to me, in these times of so much tragedy involving children I am blessed to have the family I have at the age and stage they are and need to find joy in the moment.  I get it, I do!

And yet I find myself grieving all the same.  Grieving parts of MY life that are over.  I am sorry if that makes me self centered, but we moms need to allow ourselves some attention too.  We need to let ourselves feel.  I have been desperately trying to NOT cry all week, but at what cost?  All I have gotten for my efforts are days of migraine headaches and binge eating. And guess what?  Still sad!

This week I have NOT looked at old pictures. going through a musical montage in my mind of magical moments with my perfect angel child.  (Obviously I would cut out all of the tantrums, attitude problems and whining!)  I really did try to stay away from all of the tear jerker pit falls.  And then the Disney Channel ruined it.

Truthfully it was bound to happen.  The fact that I was actively NOT being sad wasn't working even a little.  I have had a constant lump in my throat and burning eyes.  I have known that at any moment I would snap and it would probably be a while before I could stop sobbing and rocking in the corner.  So I just kept moving and doing, like nothing was happening.  But today it was quiet in the house, too quiet.  DANGEROUSLY quiet.  Noticeably missing was a little voice telling me everything that entered her head.  And I started to sniffle.  No!  I mustn't be weak!  I'll turn on the TV, background noise will help!  And there it was, "Sofia the First".  Friday morning, 9am - the time they show new episodes.  And I immediately began to call Reagan so she could come watch.  But she wasn't there,  she was at school having a wonderful new adventure, exactly as she should be doing.  And.  I.  Lost.  It.

Days of pent up tears and grief that I finally had to embrace.  The first stage of mine and my child's relationship is over and guess what?  I'm going to let myself grieve about it's passing.  I will allow myself to feel loss, because I HAVE lost something.  Those first few years of childhood are special and they don't come back.  Day after day of Target trips and having your little one "helping' you clean while constantly chattering, sitting down for a moment and having them climb on your lap and snuggle. Those little things are SO special!  I have cherished them with each of my children and have been heartbroken when all three of my children "graduated" from this stage.

I want to say I know it gets better.  But in truth, I am graduating as well.  Before, there were always more little ones at home, which helped immensely.  This time though, there is no one.  I have to come to grips with the fact that I don't have little kids anymore.  My life is changing, regardless of the fact that I have firmly planted my feet on the ground, screaming "Nooooo!".  And I have to be OK with it.  Even though I'm not.  At all.

So maybe this is when I have my mid-life crises?  My face the music moment?  Do I go back to pursuing some old dreams?  Do I come up with new ones?  How do I make sure that I am now keeping my life full, without the all consuming joy of raising small children?  Because for me?  THAT was my dream.  I wanted to be a mom.  (Oh wait, here's our Donna moment!!)  Obviously not every moment was perfection.  There were days that felt like they would never end!  There was screaming and CONSTANT talking and exhaustion.  But it was SO worth it.  (And yes, I am still a mom and adore my children and I know they still need me.  But it's different now.)

I don't know, maybe one could compare this to being fired from your dream job.  It's over, but not by YOUR choice.  You still want to get up tomorrow, pack up your laptop and drive off to the job you love.  The job you were MEANT to do.  The job that frankly, you are quite good at doing!!  But you can't.  They won't let you go back.  And it hurts.  A lot.

Did Donna even OWN a plunger....or a toilet?

Too many days...SO MANY DAYS, I find myself wielding a plunger before 8am.  It's gross, I know.  Imagine how I feel, with delusions of my perfect Donna hair, heels and pearls heroically fighting the reality of my situation.  Demoralizing I tell you.

Which bodes the questions - how to handle the ickiness that is motherhood with the perky, fun attitude I am so desperately striving for?  Of course the obvious thing to do is look back at my idol, Donna.  How did SHE handle it?  Yeah........she didn't.  Ever.  She never uttered the word plunger, toilet or vomit.  I never saw her gagging while cleaning up a post birthday party explosion.  I did not see her trying to decide if she should wash the sheets at 3am or just throw them out, cuz some things are just too awful to deal with at that hour.

Perhaps I need to try the "Fake it, till you make it" concept.  I will PRETEND that I am NOT trying not to throw up into the very toilet I am trying to unclog.  (Achieving this only due to the fact that I would have yet another mess to clean up.)  I will smile a maniacal Sheldon Cooper grin while answering child 2's questions and complaints regarding dinner, as I try not to lose my own lunch over the stomach flu mess, child #3 has created.  Perhaps I will even have a frilly, pink apron that I throw on for just these occasions.  (I'd say heels as well, but that could create a slipping hazard and no amount of faking it could handle that gross-ocity.)

Then again I could try the "Wait until your father gets home!" tactic.  Just shut whatever door needs to be shut - and then go make a meat loaf.  Upon my hard working, attractive husband's arrival I will greet him with a kiss - and a HAZMAT suit.  I have read that men like to feel needed.  This should do the trick.  A nice little ego boost.  Unfortunately, I am fairly certain that my husband would find this a less than lovely way to feel needed, plus he travels.  If I waited for him to fix the problem - well, that would just be nasty.

So, OK.  The new plan for the new year.  Handle it myself (I am woman, hear me roar!), wear cute apron over baggy flannel pj's to keep spirits up, NO HEELS, and try not to look like I hate every part of being a mommy while stomping from bathroom to bathroom looking for the plunger.  'Cuz I don't hate it.  At all.  And every can of Resolve used while trying not to breathe is worth it.  But there is a reason The Donna Reed Show never addressed this subject.  Luckily for you - I'm no Donna Reed ...yet!