Oh okay so it's been a month.

Almost.

Here's what's going on.

Me and Emily have moved in with my mother and taken control of the ex-my-bedroom turned computer room turned my-bedroom again. Kenneth got an apartment on Capitol Hill, so he can be closer to his job and besides, we broke up.

Yesterday was Emily's and my first day of school/work, respectively. She screamed until she vomited after I hugged her goodbye and then did the unthinkable: turned and walked out the door without her. I then blinked back a couple of wee tears, made coffee, and then grinned, giddy at the thought that I actually did it! Okay, grinned might be too strong a word. But I was surprised to find myself smiling. I don't actually want to spend my weekdays away from my daughter, avoiding the windows and doors where she might catch a glimpse of me and get upset all over again. I'd much rather hang out with her all day, feeding chips to the dog and throwing dolls down the stairs or whatever. Whoa, I'm pretty sure I've typed that line before. Anyways and However, the giddiness came from the prospect of getting paid, and the relief of finally doing what I've been dreading, and surviving. Sure, she screamed. Sure, I heard it from the hallway as I went into other classrooms and learned the names of other peoples' children. Sure, the older kids had to be my lookout on the playground, telling me, "okay, she's not looking," as I darted past her field of vision to duck behind the barn so I could pour someone a cup of water. Sure, she saw me once or twice because some genius installed windows linking all the classrooms together in a series of picture within a pictures, and I happened to reach for something just as she was washing her hands at the sink a few feet away, behind the window, and our eyes met, I ducked back saying "SHIT!" loud enough for several 2 year olds to stare at me wonderingly, and Emily erupted in a fresh spurt of crying. (She's here!? I've been crying all morning and she's frakkin' right there!?) But the freedom is exhilarating. I'm bringing home the bacon! My boobs get a break! My kid gets new friends and fresh experiences every day! And, if anything goes wrong with her, I don't have to drive like mad (ride the bus like mad) through bad traffic with high pitched anxiety turning my organs upside down. I'm right there, already. Our morning commute is pretty easy (or will be, once Edie gets the hang of staying in her seat while the bus is moving and we won't have to play Cowboys and Piglets the whole way there) and our evening commute is even better.

When it was finally six o clock and we finally got down to a handful of kids, our groups combined to have snack in one classroom. I scooped the Wee One up and held her, then sat her on my lap while she devoured some animal crackers, some fish crackers, and fed me pretzels. Then she scooted off my lap to sit in her own chair beside me. Uh, what? I kind of thought she'd be clinging to me like a barnacle when I picked her up, but if I didn't know any better, I'd say she actually seemed fine.

On the bus ride home she was in a great mood, playing peek a boo with the other passengers, giving me her version of an eskimo kiss which is more of a head butt, and trying to grab the person in front of us whose gender I could not with confidence discern. I kept it neutral, "Um, we don't grab other people on the bus. Not everybody wants you to touch their hair. Let's keep our hands to ourselves." We got home and Edie actually went to the other room. By herself!

So she's pretty independent. And awake now.

We've got to get ready for our second day of school/work.