The little angel was fine, FINE when my beloved dropped her off at The Emerald City yesterday.  SHE WAS FINE.  "Goodbye, Daddy!" she chirped.  "Give me my kiss first!  One kiss only!"

Based on her success yesterday, I decided to try again, after the horrible experience on Wednesday morning when I stayed there for 45 minutes, watching her grow increasingly snot-covered and agitated, clinging to me with her little body and howling, "NO, MOMMY, DON'T LEAVE!! DON'T LEAVE!!!"  After I finally ripped her death grip from my neck, set her down and walked out the door, she wailed with the pain of a dying animal and threw her body against the door, screaming, "I WANT MY MOOOOMMMMYYY!!"

And of course, I squatted outside the door below the window so she couldn't see me and cried all my mascara off for twenty minutes until the crying subsided a bit.

I called later to hear that she had blown herself out and was resting quietly, as though she'd in fact had a full-scale nervous breakdown. 

BUT, as I am a glutton for punishment, I thought that since my beloved had a completely different experience yesterday that maybe, MAYBE I could pull it off this morning.

I was so wrong.

My friend K. found me again hunched under the glass outside the door, rocking in the fetal position and listening to the howls and thuds of her 32 pounds of red-haired fury hitting the door.   I begged her to come back out after dropping off J. and tell me how the little angel was doing.  By the time she came back out, the little angel was in her old teacher Miss L's arms and sucking her Nuby cup like it contained fine scotch.

I don't know why me. K's theory is that she knows it bothers me more than it does my beloved.  Of course, it's probably just that she really does love me best.  Or because I have ovaries.  Or because she knows that I cried so hard after Grey's Anatomy last night that my sister actually asked me if I was pregnant.  The little angel woke up at 4 a.m. after two nights of sleeping all the way through and begged to be taken to the couch. While I was cuddling with her, I had a dream that I went back to college and lost her in a fraternity house, then after searching for hours I opened a door and found her, terrified and covered in her own vomit.  I think the guilt thing combined with the recent illness are totally doing a number on me.

GAH. I'm so glad it's Friday.