Cataclysmic panic

Butter is going to walk with us to school tomorrow, and then I’m going to bring him to the playground where I’ll hand him off to his new sitter for a couple of hours.

I’m terrified. I’ve never done this. And I think it’s too late to change my mind.

We never had a sitter for Peanut. We have since found someone who has taken both boys for outings maybe a handful of times. A few friends have read a book in our living room after the boys are already asleep so we can go to meetings or birthday parties.

Otherwise, it’s been all me, Spouse, and grandma.

This is a bigger leap of faith than walking onstage alone. This is a more terrifying leap off the ledge than submitting my novel to agents. This is a bigger step into the abyss than marriage, natural childbirth, or the first few strokes of a triathlon.

This might even be a farther stomach-plummet than watching Peanut line up for kindergarten. My innards fell seventy-two stories that day, and splatted in the basement as he walked into the classroom.

And this feels even worse.

I will hand my baby over to a virtual stranger, fake a smile, and walk away.

And just thinking about it makes me want to vomit.

Remind me again why I said I wanted this?