hasta-la-veesta, Baby.

I’ve been planning a big celebration for today. It’s been on my countdown and my dream board and has pulled more than one hopeful sigh out of me. I thought that today my life would finally begin again.

Today? Today is the day I put June on the school bus for the first time.

I didn’t expect to cry.

My girl. She has challenged me more than my other three kids put together. We have butted heads and toes and knees and shoulders, argued about zippers and tank tops and shoe selections and chocolate. She has tested my mettle on a daily basis and I haven’t always lived up to the challenge. She’s such a big person. This house is caging her in on every side, the girl needs to fly. Jason called at noon and asked how I’m doing without her and I realized I haven’t felt upset or frustrated once today.

This morning was a big deal. We tried on a few different outfits but I really let her choose something she felt confident in. We didn’t fight about hair or shoes or her lunch, and we hugged a lot and said a lot of happy I-love-you’s. She wore her new locket that she worked so hard to earn (she had to learn that cleaning her bedroom doesn’t involve stuffing everything behind her closet and under her bed) and her new light up tennis shoes that have been sitting in their box for three weeks.

And when I stood at the bus stop (I usually dump my kids in the village while still in my bathrobe) and waited for the bus to come, I could feel the apron strings finally start to let go. This is what she and I need. She needs independence from me. She needs to come home at the end of the day and tell me about her life, then get up and go live it again tomorrow. Being home and underchallenged is misery for both of us but especially her.

I wanted to take her to school her first day. I wanted to walk her to class, hug her one last time and slip out the door while she wasn’t looking. But June? June insisted on riding the bus. “It’s okay, Mommy, I can ride the bus with the boys,” she says on Sunday. I had to smile. I can remember another girl who insisted her parents drop her off at the airport and let her find her way to college all on her own. She didn’t need anyone to hold her hand. I think I was the only girl on my floor at BYU who didn’t have a mother hovering while she unpacked. I found a friend who could “give me a ride to college” and I was on my way.

My girl. She’s on her way as well.