Now that I've stopped blubbering...

Sheesh. I had no idea the waterworks would be that extreme this morning. Bob was bouncing off the walls from the moment he came into the bathroom to notify me of his pull-up having leaked and his bed being in dire need of attention. That's Bob when he's nervous--downright nutty, like a normal kid when they've ingested a 12-pack of Jolt Cola. But once we got to the school, he was just fine. We filed in with the rest of the Million Parent March and made our way to the kindergarten wing. We walked into the classroom, Bob hung up his backpack, took his seat, and started working.

I just stood there for a minute taking it all in and trying not to hyperventilate. The sheer size of that school is overwhelming to me (average enrollment is 500 students, K-5--my high school's average enrollment 9-12 wasn't even that high). The general first day chaos was overwhelming to me. The parents with cameras outside the classroom door were overwhelming to me. Turning my kid loose in all that was beyond overwhelming to me.

But Bob, well, he barely noticed. It was just another day for him, albeit an exciting new one.

I said my goodbyes, and walked out of the room, and the waterworks began. They continued as I dropped off Bob's medication at the nurse's office. ("I'm okay, just having a meltdown," I explained to the nurse, who advised me not to worry, she'd had her own meltdown the prior week with her own daughter.) I got myself composed on the drive to my office, but immediately lost it again when our receptionist asked me "how'd it go?"

It's all been building up to this moment. Ever since that first phone call I got when Bob was not even two years old, from the director of that preschool (5 preschools ago), to tell me how concerned she was about Bob's behavior. All the psych appointments, all the meetings with teachers and directors, all the psych evaluations, all the therapy appointments, all the forms, all the interviews with prospective preschools, all the sleepless nights wondering what the hell we were going to do with that boy...

...it all comes down to this moment. Certainly it doesn't all end here--I'm sure I'll have more meetings with principals and teachers in my future, unfortunately--but it's different now. This is public school--they can't just kick him out on a whim.

And we've made it this far.

I can only imagine what I'll be like Wednesday, after the judge hands down his decision in the custody case. Particularly if it's favorable to us. What a long-ass fucking road this has been.

I swear, after we get moved in and get the boxes unpacked and get the dog and cat settled in and get the final orders signed and get the boy to the point he can just be dropped off at the school door, well...I think at that point, I might just collapse like a wet noodle.

Oh, yes--the dog. We found one. At a nearby shelter, who is willing to hold her until we move. Her name is Gilda, and we'll probably let her keep that name. It suits her.

Of course, she's not nearly as adorable as my new cat, Stuey (who will be slightly renamed "Stew"):

(He's a bit puffy. This photo is of his reaction to his present owners' new Jack Russell.)

Twenty-five more days.