The jitters, racing heart, and flushed face are just a few of my symptoms. The onset? Dropping off my youngest on his first day of kindergarten. Diagnosis? Either Utter Euphoria or Severe Depression. The day has been a whirlwind, and my goals were lofty, to say the least. Since I’m a “list” person and I get embarrassingly giddy from crossing an item off a list, allow me to list of all I was able to accomplish on this first of many kid-free days.

I filled out a form in under 2 minutes, but was still able to put time and consideration into my answers.

I took a long shower. On purpose. I was actually looking for more things to do in there until I lost every drop of hot water.

I left the house without forgetting one single thing. I had my purse, my phone, my breakfast, my grocery list, my coupons, my ice packs and hydrocortisone for after my allergy shots, the item I needed to return to Target, AND the receipt.

On the drive to my allergy shots, I turned on my favorite station and sang along with an entire song. Not once did I have to stop singing to address some crisis.

I got my allergy shots and did not have to solve a dispute about who pushed the elevator button on the way up outside the doors, who pushed the floor level once inside, and who then could push the same buttons on the way down.

While in the waiting room, I got to sit by the grown up TV and watch the news, rather than watch Sophia The First in the kid area.

I was able to sit for the recommended 30 minutes after the shots to make sure there was no reaction. (But I didn’t. My list was too long.)

I went to Target to make my return and did not get one request to please please please buy this (toy, candy, fill in the blank), or any arguments when I said no.

I went to the grocery store and got to read all the way through any label I wanted.

I got all the way through the store without stopping to make a potty run.

I got to the end of my list. This has not happened since 2005. Make lunches. Check. Get kids to school. Check. Go to kindergarten orientation. Check. Fill out all kindergarten and 4th grade paperwork. Check. Unload the dishwasher. Reload dishwasher. Make chicken marinade, dice chicken, apples, and broccoli, and throw in crock-pot. Check. Check. Check. Get shots. Make returns. Pick out and buy new chair to replace the hand-me-down made in 1967. Go to store. Unload groceries. Eat lunch (sitting down the entire time). Clean the counters. Call friend to borrow truck for furniture pick up. Set up and write new blog. Congratulate myself on how well I’m handling this transition. Look at baby pictures.

Cry.

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