goodbye twenty-fifteen

I wish I could put a stop on time and postpone twenty-sixteen for another year or so. I was a tad smug when I never became emotional at the thought of B. growing up. I was always excited by her birthdays and never shed sad tears by her non-baby status. I don't know if she grew up too quickly. She walked before she was one, stopped naps before she was two and easily toilet trained a month later. Moving on to solids and milk and, then, no bottles at all was a breeze. Part of me feels like she was never really a baby and I kind of loved it because as B. grew so did our friendship {yes I am lame}.

But, now, ugh, twenty-sixteen marks the end of B. being my baby. B. starts "big school" and, yes, I know kindergarten isn't massively stressful and B. was already at pre-school at an actual primary school all of this past year but, well, it just feels different. I can feel it in my bones. Change is a-coming. Usually I'm great with change. I'm easily adaptable. I took all of the baby changes in my stride. Teething -- easy. Breast-feeding -- easy, in the fact that it didn't work and B. hated it so we just bottle fed. All of it -- easy. This, big school, not so easy.

It just occurred to me that B. will be using the toilets on her own. She'll have a school uniform and Wednesday won't be a half day and I can't lure B. into skipping a day for shopping {not that the hobo fell for my tactics anyway}. I know I'm being terribly immature and I own that but that's only a small part of it. A much larger part is worried and scared and terrified and *insert thesaurus here*. I'm not ready. B. is. She already hates school holidays and can't wait to be at school. She loves it. She's emotionally ready. She knows how to write and count and take her damn jacket off. She can use the toilet and open a lunchbox and all the other things we were told she needed to know before school. But...boo.

At home, I'm the only one worried. Husband is cool, calm, collected. His theory that B. has to start some time and while she doesn't need to {legally speaking} start this year she wants to. That kid needs it in her bones just like I need to stunt her growth and have her home with me forever and always.


So, nope, I'm not looking forward to the end of twenty-fifteen and the beginning of this stupid year. Though, I doubt anybody is still reading {no doubt turned off by my foot stamping, whining and, quite frankly, boring ass life} I do have some resolutions that don't involve poisoning my kids mind about school {which I would never actually do. I just dream about it. A lot}:

one. this year I am going to channel my anxiety/depression/ptsd into my novel. A side-effect of being happy is that I can't write dark/depressing stuff and since that is my favourite kind of writing, well, happiness has kind of put a damper on things. Every time I have one of my dark bed-for-days moments I'm pulling out my novel and smashing away at it until I feel better.

two. this is the year I'm finishing my novel so - ha! - I'm awesome. I will not feel guilty about writing when I could be sleeping/cleaning/relaxing/being with my family. But I will not hole away and become hermit-esque because it's happened before and it ain't pretty.

three. I will accept the things I can not change and this especially includes my mind. I will channel all my darkness into writing and will finish this year, perhaps, not "cured" but more accepting of who I am.


happy new year everyone x

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