Ru and I have to go tomorrow for our very first parent-teacher conference and tell Ry’s teacher she isn’t allowed to thwack our daughter on the head with a pencil ever again (even if Ry was playing with a dollar during class – the nerve of these Kindergarteners!).
Tomorrow is my birthday. At last count I’m turning 36. All I can really think about right now is that Ry has a teacher who is almost completely lacking in warmth toward her young students (and, it would seem, knowledge of the law).
I should feel comforted by the knowledge that Rocky knows she can tell us when something bothers her. Instead, my own Little Blue is freaking out, absolutely sure that it was her in the classroom with her own mean Kindergarten teacher. She feels that terrible blend of helpless, alone, hurt and scared, like a tight fist in my chest and acid in my stomach, and she is having a hard time letting Grownup Blue take the helm again.
The great thing is, it’s Ry, she’s safe and loved, sleeping between me and Ru tonight in fact, and we are NOT going to let it slide. Making that clean separation between me and her is extremely difficult, though. She is, in part, an extension of me, in spirit and body. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Sleep, dream deep, eat a good breakfast, take your meds and pray during your morning walk. All is well.