It’s the first day since I pulled my 15 year old daughter, Chloe, out of her high school.
The first day after she begged me to, over the phone through unstoppable tears that have too often been coming.
Between the pressures, and judgemental stares, and cyber-bullying, the absolute refusal by some to just let her live, maybe her own disbelief in certain parts of herself,
I knew that leaving her for even one more day in that place where the walls were closing in
could be a decision I would end up regretting.
I have cried so many of my own tears over it;
At night, in the shower, this morning watching her 14 year old sister, Tessa, get out of the car alone…
I realized the years of watching them walk into school together are now over, and I never even had any warning…
I wanted so much for her in these formative years.
School dances, best friends, even a cafeteria lunch experience with some kind of mystery nugget.
It’s all a part of it.
I pictured she and Tessa graduating on the same stage, both dressed in blue, still confusing people years later about how they aren’t actually twins, even though they’re both in the same grade.
I hate facing a question mark.
I hate stolen moments,
and the weight of the worry she will be crushed permanently by her own doubts and fears;
But I made it clear early on that if my daughters ever felt unsafe, miserable, or irreparably wounded,
I would be open to other ideas for them.
I pry my own hands off my own expectations.
So, it’s independent study for the rest of the year, then hopefully a transfer somewhere new,
and a fresh start for Chloe.
“How to start over” is a lesson every person needs.
It is my job as her mom to show her,
but it’s a thing I am struggling with right now, too, in my own life.
Crack the eggs,
once again start the coffee,
remind myself that each day is new,
and maybe, if I’m lucky, this one will surprise me.
My girls’ mental health and sheer existence matters so much more to me than if they stayed in the same place for all four years, living out some kind of High School Musical version of their own story.
One day we will look back and realize we got repaid in contentment for all of our shed tears.
In the meantime I will tell myself the same thing I told a friend a few years ago as she wrung her hands over her son being suddenly in need of homeschooling:
Nothing has to be permanent.
Try, then try again.
You can always change course if something is not working.
There is really no such thing as “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.”
Motherhood is about the re-routing.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
