Giving In without Giving Up

The kids just left the house, a neighbor picked them up and carted them off. "Good luck!" I exhale to her as I wave and head in for a moment of silence and iced coffee. I'm shaky, partly because I've neglected my B-12 requirements for the past month or two and am nearly passing out  with chronic fatigue, but also because I feel this silence deepening and it's slightly disconcerting. Tessa's last day of pre-school ever is this coming tuesday, then summer vacation (a chaos before the quiet) and then full day kindergarden.  I look at Thatcher and wonder how in the world we'll make it for 7 full hours a day without her. She is the driving force in this house I'll admit. She is my energy when I have none. She forces me up, moves me out and manipulates my body into whatever she thinks it should be at the moment... games player, house cleaner, experimental lunch lady. She plans our days by playdates and pond trips and playground runs.  She never admits to being tired and she's happy to point out my dark circles. For the few hours I'm alone with Thatcher each weekday morning we have our slow going routine; clean, eat omelet, his show during my shower, do laundry and pick up Tessa. It's light and easy and familiar and I'm also happy to break it up with the return of my girl before lunch. I am terrified at the thought of leaving her in the hands of someone else for seven full hours. My parents are the only people who have ever spent that much time with her alone and that was once, on the night Thatcher was born. And that's why right now I'm spinning. They're out in someone else's car, going to a softball game, a middle school awards ceremony and I'm off to work. We've got different lives and that's becoming clearer. They are little people growing up and away, they are not just extensions of me. And yes, I love the quiet, I appreciate this moment without screaming or whining or nagging or fussing or crying for background sounds and maybe while she's away at school next year our relationship will blossom. She'll stop asking for babysitters, she'll be happy to be home with just her family. Thatcher may even get a chance to learn how to talk! Life is crazy and parenthood is like admitting yourself to a torture chamber sometimes but I don't know how else to live it anymore. Before I know it they'll both be in full day school and I'll have to re-acquiant myself with the world of adults. I'll have to learn how to have a cohesive conversation again. I'll have to start doubling up on the B-12.