An update on the school girl

Yeah, well, there's been a reason it's taken so long to get back on here.

School is no longer our favorite word.

Time was, before her birthday, that even the mere mention of her turning two would result in Daisy telling everyone proudly: "I'm going to school."

Now, you even mention the "s" word and a balls-out tantrum ensues. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo Mummy! Don't WANT to go to schoooooooooooooooooooool."

Yeah, it's like that.

School days start out in blissful ignorance, a happy toddler snuggling with us on the couch while we watch Mummy's other husband (George Stephanopolous) on GMA. But by the time we get to breakfast, the question of where everyone is going and what they'll be doing today, arises.

And then the screaming begins.

If you know Daisy, you'll know she does not whine. She does not whimper. I'm not even sure she knows how to *just* cry. (If she does, I certainly have not heard it.) There is only screaming. Screaming at a decibel high enough to warrant a noise ordinance. Bright-red-faced, mouth-wide-open, full-body-flinging, screaming.

Deep breath.

The last 3 mornings, it has escalated to protesting at the dressing process. Meaning, we cannot get her dressed.

If you have or have ever had a toddler, you'll know that I mean this literally. If you don't have children, you're wondering how the hell this can be. I mean, I'm 5'2" and 147lbs. How is it that I cannot restrain a 23lb child sufficiently to dress her? Right? Right!?

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

C'mon on over and try it for yourself. I double-dog dare you. (Tip: bring a helmet and padding.)

It's like trying to wrestle a damn alligator. Imagine 23lbs of determined strength, buckling-down to resist you and completely oblivious to any personal harm that her actions may cause her. (Like whacking her shaking head against a wall - CHECK. Or smacking it against the tile floor - CHECK.)

It's a torso whipping back and forth, a head on top doing the same, then arms and legs all moving in different and opposing directions. Now imagine trying to put pants on THAT: while you're busy doing one thing, she's undoing another. You get the left leg in a pant and, while you force in the right, the left will kick itself free.

Socks? Forget about it! Unless you want to lose an eye ball (or, if you're Daddy, another kind of ball.)

Today I had to manage this alone while my husband went to an early-morning appointment and I kid-you-not that I had to pin her torso down to the floor with my left leg, while I strong-armed her river-dancing legs into her pants.

Thank God CPS was nowhere in sight.

Once the dressing debacle is complete, Daisy moves to bargaining and delay tactics. Read one more book. Go to Nanny's first. Get a glass of milk (she never drinks milk!) Change into a different top. Wear shorts instead.

When this does not work, she begins to move forward with guilt. "Mummy doesn't want you!" she pouts.

Then, finally, she begins to come around... slowly, making sure "Mummy's coming with you," and asking to go get cupcakes and ice-cream after school.

Sigh.

While in the car, she demonstrates her astounding sales skills, utilizing the "assumptive close" in sentences like: "Going home now, yeah, yeah," while nodding her head emphatically and "Go the other way now Mummy. Go home," or "Going to Nanny's house now? Yeah."

All of this and when you walk through the classroom door?

It all stops. She walks away to her teacher and almost forgets to say goodbye. Not a sob or scream to be heard.

WTH!?

When you pick her up she's as happy as a clam. "MY Mummy and MY Daddy!" she squeals, arms up in the air and running toward us, and then reminds us to "Sign me out, Mummy!" before we leave. (She even told me I was looking for her name in the wrong binder this morning. "No Mummy, THAT one!")

On the way home she happily chatters about her day and is in THE BEST MOOD EVER.

And yet, we wake up the next morning and go through the same process.

I know it's just a period of change and adjustment but she never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes she leaves me pleasantly surprised and other times I'm left scratching my head in bemusement.

Parenthood!

Yesterday she had her very first school photo. We don't get to see them for a few weeks so I'm not sure how they came out but I'm DYING to view them. Knowing how hard it is to get her to look at MY camera or stand still, I can only imagine how difficult it would be to have her perform the archetypal "chin on hand/head-tilt" pose the photography studio advertises on their flyer.

Of course, no matter what it looks like, I'll buy it. I'm a sucker that way.