today is a proms & potties tale in which my schizophrenic mind whirls away remembering my morning:

i drop lily off at preschool, and she immediately begins crying, “i want my mommy.” her teacher, anne, patient as always, soothingly says, “your mommy will be back in a little while; you know that.” i walk out the door,  my hands pressed to my ears to stop the voices, the crying, the noise. then i hear jake–not crying, not whining, not begging–but noisy nonetheless. his silence when he’s around me is so upsetting that i can barely stand it. the silence of him not participating in any college orientation activity or student club maddens me to the point of murderous rage. dante has me pegged for hell’s level 7 for sure! am i just blowing things out of proportion? is he truly fine like he keeps saying every time i ask, “how’s it going?”  is he lying to me?

so, one side of my brain today says to lily, “be quiet and calm. i’m coming back for you soon. learn, play, and think about me because i think about you all day. but your teachers will take care of you until i get back.” the other side of my brain says to jake, “be loud and involved. learn and play, and think about me because i think about you all day. this experience is not one we can share. you’re on your own. but when you’re scared, reach out to a new friend who will listen and tell you things will be alright.”

as i sit at my desk finishing this slice of life story, my students are writing a memory of swimming. i wonder if any of them are writing about drowning? i’m pretty sure i could do that today!