Pardon the Little Mermaid reference but the life of a preschool parent is going to take some getting used to. Everything is so serious, now. So many new rules. Is it wrong that I just want to sneak out the back door and not buy into any of it?

...Outrunning everyone but his shadow...
Apparently there was some drama at the end of the year when a teacher left Archer's school without notice. Parents were livid and still are it seems, deciding to create a sort of "parent's union" and hosting underground meetings about their children's well being, voicing their concerns, etc. I RSVP'd for the meeting because I didn't know how to say no, and then I felt bad that I even wanted to (say no) because I really should be concerned with my child's well-being, too. And I am, but not in a "parent's conference" kind of way. It gives me a poopy stomach just thinking about it, getting together for lemon squares and chitchat about playground etiquette or whatever. It's times like these when I wonder if I'm even cut out for this parent-stuff. I think I'm a good mom and I love my son more than anything, obviously, but the bureaucracy of parenting is intimidating as hell, not to mention something I'm very uncomfortable with. I want Archer to make friends and learn stuff. I want his preschool experience to be as amazing as it possibly can be... but. Butbutbutbuuuuut... All the drama. Drama! Why!? WHY!?
Which kind of in a way brings me to my next point of weirdness: birthday parties. I almost forgot the whole "when it's your birthday you have to invite the whole class" thing... I hated it when I was a kid because for one, I didn't want everyone at my birthday party and two, I didn't want to be invited to some kid's party if he/she didn't want me there. Of course I understand that this "invite the whole class" thing is standard procedure for parents these days. No one wants to exclude anyone or hurt any child's feelings, which I realize is a kind gesture of loveliness. But it feels so... phony? Then I take a step back and think, "What the hell is wrong with you, Rebecca?" Seriously. What is wrong with me? Why am I so wigged out by this stuff?
Maybe I'm just reeling from the shock of sending Archer to school. Dropping my baby off in tears every morning is no picnic, and although he's wonderfully happy every afternoon when I come to pick him up, I'm starting to think my previous apprehension sending him to preschool early had less to do with whether or not he was ready and more to do with whether or not I was. The truth is... I'm not ready. Everything feels like it's moving way too fast, all of these milestones like butterflies I can't catch and I'm sort of standing here, dumbstruck, watching them flutter away...

...Why do you have to grow up so fast? Huh?...
I'm not ready for secret parent meetings and RSVPing for 4th birthday parties and trying to make small-talk with real adults in their adult houses with three (plus) bedrooms and backyards. I'm intimidated by the Angeleno elite who send their children to Archer's school and their fancy cars-- parents who have the space and monetary means to invite a whole school to their children's parties without flinching.
I feel like a child in her mother's high-heels trying to act way more grown-up than I am. It's one thing parenting a child in a world I'm familiar with. Quite another dropping Archer off in a new place where things just seem so, I dunno, different.
And a little sad, too.
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