Today was my girl's first day of fourth grade. Fourth grade is a big year. The homework starts getting serious. You learn hard math. At least someone in your class starts wearing a bra for realz. The foursquare competition sizzles.

And apparently, you don't want your mother taking pictures of you on the first day of school, even if your father is on a business trip when you start fourth grade.

We woke up early to do her nails, white with gold glitter topcoat. Of course she touched them while pulling on her cowgirl boots, so we ended up slapping more gold glitter on while waiting for the bus. There is little that can't be covered with a thick coating of gold glitter.

When the bus pulled away, she didn't wave. She always waved in third grade. A little part of my heart hurt, and another part of my heart sighed with relief. As much as I want her nose in my neck, I also want her to face her challenges with the courage that comes from believing in yourself. You can't believe in yourself if you think you need your mama at your side all the time. I know this.

But as I walked back into a house suddenly silent after the past forty-eight hours spent just the two of us and Kizzy getting under each other's feet, I felt a little hollow as I started the process of adjusting -- as I have since I got pregnant -- to another new normal.