Mmhmm. She’s the most beautiful little girl on the planet. I’m not the only one who thinks so, either! And, for those wondering, her first day went smashingly. She made a sunshine picture and, unlike the rest of the kids in the class, she was overly careful (ahem) to make sure that the rays went the whole way around the sun.

Yep. Cutest and smartest.

Nope. Not biased at all.

(And for those wondering about me, I’m doing “fine.” Obviously, as you can figure from the picture here, D took the time to share some pictures with me tonight, including a shot of her uber-cool shoes. I got to hear the stories. And I was proud. On our household end, BigBrother kept me busy with the transition from crib-to-toddler-bed. Life doesn’t slow down much, does it? I did indulge in a chocolate ice cream bar this evening. And earlier? My Husband brought me a Milky Way. He knows me or something.)

There She Grows is a post from The Chronicles of Munchkin Land. Want more Chronicles? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, please contact me or @ me on twitter.

I woke up this morning. Very early. Too early. I went back to sleep. Eventually, a noise from BigBrother’s room woke me up. I rolled over quickly and looked at the clock. It read: 9:22, meaning that it was 9:12. Munchkin started school at 9:00. If I was to talk to her, I had to call before 8:30. I had failed. Again. I rolled back over, buried my face in a pillow and thought about my failure. Four minutes later, I noticed that the room didn’t seem the right shade of brightness for 9:12. I rolled back over. This time the clock read 8:26, meaning it was 8:16. I need to remember to put my glasses on when I look at the alarm clock.

I got up, found my cell phone and called. D answered and asked Munchkin if she wanted to talk to me. She did. She told me that she was wearing pink and that her backpack had Hello Kitty on it. She told me she was excited. I said that I was excited for her and very proud. I said that I loved her. She told me that she loved me, too. I held back the tears until I finished up the conversation with D. Then I wept into my coffee (already made by my Husband) and blackberry jam toast (craving as of right now).

I busied myself with work and discussions with BigBrother. Then I showered. Not alone, of course, because if Mommy’s in the shower, well, BigBrother has to be in there, too! I got ready. I left for the post office and the library. And I drove fast. With the windows down. It was just barely 70 degrees at that point and, oh, it felt heavenly. The radio was up though I don’t recall what was playing. I just let my foot hit the gas and away I went. Sometimes it’s nice to own a Mustang.

Upon returning home, I spent some time playing with BigBrother. And then we ate lunch. And then he went down for his nap. And then I went outside to cry for a little bit. It’s strange. To live your life in your normal, everyday function, all the while deeply aware that your child is hitting this huge milestone. There’s no pomp and circumstance over here today. It’s business as usual. It’s strange to be torn in two directions. My heart can simultaneously be with the Munchkin as she starts school. And still here with my Son as he runs around the living room with the mixer beater saying, “Beater! Beater!” (Toys are beneath this child. He’s going to be a chef.) All the while, it makes me more and more aware that a mother’s heart knows no limits to its capacity to love. My mind, however, gets jumbled and wires get criss-crossed.)

I’m wearing the necklace, as you can see. I wore it yesterday as well. I’ll probably wear it for awhile. Last night, BigBrother sat on my lap as we sang songs before bed time. He pointed to the necklace and asked “Wassat?” I said, “A Heart.” He repeated the word. I said it was a necklace. He repeated heart. I said it was a special symbol between Munchkin and Mommy. He pointed at the wall and said, “NONNA!” We got her picture off of the end table and talked about her for awhile and how she was going to school. Eventually this turned into a discussion about school buses and he was off to play. My heart melted. My son knows his sister. He says the word sister. He loves his sister.

I’m sad today. But, with all the little things between last night and this morning, my heart is just very full. Not as empty as I had expected. Oh, that’s not to say that I am still not filled with a longing to be with her today; I am. But, the little things. They add up, don’t they?

Making It is a post from The Chronicles of Munchkin Land. Want more Chronicles? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, please contact me or @ me on twitter.

We have a Magnadoodle in our house. It’s generic. (I’m thrifty, if you remember correctly.) Every night, after BigBrother is in bed, I clean up the toys in the living room. As I get everything in its place, I erase whatever has been scribbled upon the Generic Magnadoodle throughout the day and replace it with a message. The whole process reminds me of how, on the show Friends, they would have a new message or drawing on the Magnadoodle that hung on JD and Chandler’s door in each episode. (That said, I was interested to find out, via Wikipedia, that the Magnadoodle followed JD to California for his short-lived spin-off. Good stuff!)

The messages are usually sappy in nature and intended for either TheHusbandMan or BigBrother. Things like, “I love my Bubba,” have appeared along with, “Oh, it’s what you do to me,” which is a lyric from a song that TheHusbandMan and I sing to each other as of late. Yes, I’m really that cheesy of a Mom. It’s just who I am.

And so, this evening, as I cleaned, bummed that I missed talking to Munchkin because she went to bed early and, prior to that, I had been involved in the biggest Book Reading Fest that BigBrother and I have had in a long time… I finally got everything put in its place. I erased the message from the Generic Magnadoodle. And I thought about what I would write. A message for either BigBrother or TheHusbandMan just didn’t seem to cut it. Not that they don’t deserve special messages. They do. And they get them. But it wasn’t their turn.

And so:

(Photo removed.)

No. She won’t see it in the morning because she won’t wake up at my house. But someday, maybe, she’ll look through my pictures. And it will be there, among all of the others. And maybe she’ll know how much she was on my heart and mind as she made her way into a new era of her life.

Generic Magnadoodle Love Messages is a post from The Chronicles of Munchkin Land. Want more Chronicles? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, please contact me or @ me on twitter.

She goes to school tomorrow. I’ve been crying off and on all day. Thankfully, the weather is gray and sullen, just like my mood, justifying my desire or, rather, need, to cuddle under the covers on my bed. These are the moments that set me back months, if not years. They are the moments of new milestones. She’s about to begin something new and wondrous.

And I’m once again left behind.

In a day or two, I will have something profound to say about the process of being a first parent and watching, from afar, as your child steps into the classroom. But today, and most definitely tomorrow, I need to allow myself to feel. I need to be selfish with my emotions. I need to cry a bit. Eat some ice cream. And write a bit. And moan and complain. In these moments, I am fully aware that I am making open adoption out to be fully about me. I am aware of my selfishness. I am fully aware that if I kept up an act like this, I would only be doing wrong by my daughter. But I need some me-time. I need to wallow a bit. I’ll be back on task in a few days with the true reasons of open adoption tucked firmly under my cap. But now?

I won’t be there as my daughter wakes up on the first morning of her schooling career. I won’t wake her up. I won’t see her eyelids flutter, her smile broaden as her Mommy, not me, reminds her why today is a very special day. I won’t make her a healthy breakfast or argue with her that, yes, she will eat that healthy breakfast. I won’t help her get dressed in an outfit that I’ve planned to show off her cuteness. I won’t get to fix those luxurious curls. I won’t help her put on her backpack. I won’t take a million pictures. I won’t smother her in kisses. I won’t drive her down the street, hold her hand after we get out of the car and walk her to her classroom. I won’t calm any fears if she has them or delight if she delights. I won’t trudge myself back to the car and feel a sudden longing for a girl who has been by my side for three and half years without ceasing.

Because I know that longing all too well. It’s been my life for three and a half years. Because she’s not here.

Instead, I’ll dread opening my own eyes tomorrow. The Husband is already on the alert that I should be of little to no use for awhile; he’ll be handling BigBrother-care in the morning. I’ll look at the clock, knowing what time D plans on waking up the Munchkin, and compare our schedules. I won’t get to do any of that stuff. Instead, I know I need to go to the library and pick up a book I have on reserve. And I’m out of whole wheat pitas for my hummus wraps. I’ll throw myself into the mundane of tomorrow, not wanting to fully recognize my absence, yet again, in yet another milestone. By evening fall, I’ll have accepted it as part of a long and growing list of Things I Miss. I’ll remind myself that this is my “choice.” I’ll berate myself for useless tears. I’ll look forward to the stories of her first day, told second-hand by her Mom. And I’ll give myself a pat on the back for surviving another one.

I have plans to call this evening, to wish her luck before she goes to sleep. I cried as I messaged D to ask if a phone call would be okay. I’ve been assured that it is, of course, and even one in the morning. But do I want to interrupt in the morning? With pictures and busy work to get done? Do I feel like a burden for needing it more for myself than for her? I do.

These are the moments in open adoption that are hard. I feel useless. Worthless. And selfish for making any moment of this milestone out to be about myself. But there are some things that I can’t help. I’m human. I’ll be fine by the end of the week, I swear. But right now? I’m heartbroken.

When did she grow up? Where was I?

School Day Blues is a post from The Chronicles of Munchkin Land. Want more Chronicles? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, please contact me or @ me on twitter.

I accidentally came across a gift for Munchkin today. On my way to the Farmer’s Market in town, I ducked inside Hallmark because I needed some cards. I meandered the aisles, picking up random cards (including a birthday card for Munchkin because it’s appropriate and I didn’t want to chance it not being there in December… or forgetting about it in the aftermath of LittleBrother’s birth). I ended up with four cards, including a little cute one for Munchkin. (Hallmark has some cute “just for kids” cards right now that any kind of parent might want to check out. It says “Limited Time Offer” on the display so… get a move on.)

I made my way to the counter and waited in line. I always look at the necklaces and jewelry on display. I’m not a huge jewelry fanatic. I wear my wedding rings, a pair of diamond studs in my second earring hole (though usually nothing in my first) and occasionally a necklace of some sort. (I’m currently sporting puka shells because a) we were just at the beach, b) I freaking love shell necklaces, c) the white against my skin makes me look more tan than I actuall am.) I should make a note that I miss my nose ring much more than I thought I would and will probably get it repierced after LittleBrother is born. That will make five times that a needle has gone through my nostril(s). Perhaps I like pain more than the jewelry? Anyway…

I saw it.

A double necklace set. You know the kind; keep one and give the other to your friend/sister/mom/daughter/neighbor/dog. It brought back feelings of inadequacy because I never had a “best friend” necklace from anyone while growing up and it’s always been a sore spot. (Though TheHusbandMan and I do have two halves of the fire fighter medallion from when we were married. He likes me.)

This particular set was in a pale pink box. It had writing on the top, underside of the lid.

You wear one, I’ll wear the other, and we’ll always be close at heart.

Yeah. Danged if I didn’t cry while waiting in line at my local Hallmark store. I picked up the box and inspected it a little more closely. Silver, which is nice because I prefer silver over gold. (Though my wedding rings are gold because I have this random traditional streak flowing through me that I don’t always “get.”) Kind of “antiqued” in the look, which I also dig. Set on a black cord instead of a chain; eh, I could give or take that but, perhaps it’s better for kids. Less likely to break? (Or, on my side, less likely that one of the boys will yank on it and break it in half.)

The two pieces, as you can see, are a double layered heart on one rope chain and, the other is a rectangle where the heart fits into it with the word “always” underneath. Or, in my eyes, a rectangle with a heart shaped hole. Yeah, that seems about right, no? Only more appropriate if it was a human shape instead of a rectangle but, hey, I can be a rectangle. (Though, I’m slightly more round than a rectangle right now.)

I decided that it could only be more appropriate if the word featured was “forever” instead of “always.” The jewelry box that J and D gave me that held a blue topaz heart necklace (her birthstone) has engraved on the top, “Forever In My Heart.” So, yes, forever would have fit our family perfectly but always is pretty darn close, dontcha think? I do. And so I bought it.

And that solves the big dilemma on what to buy the Munchkin as she heads off to school. Though I do need to mention a few things: while I loved buying a backpack every year for school, I believe it would be an inappropriate gift from me. Why? That’s an everyday Mom kind of thing to buy. When I discussed it with D, she agreed. I’m not looking to step on toes; I’m looking to honor my daughter in my own way. That said, I’m also getting her an uber cool outfit (of which the specifics haven’t yet been finalized but it will be uber-hip). Outfit, necklace and best wishes. That sounds good, right?

And on her first day of school, I’ll wear my half of the necklace and sit outside in my backyard and pretend that I’m not crying.

Really, I’ll get to the emotions of this milestone soon. I just … can’t yet.

Well, That Solves That One is a post from The Chronicles of Munchkin Land. Want more Chronicles? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, please contact me or @ me on twitter.