Marking another first

My daughter's first gymnastics class. She called when she got back to her grandmother's house. We had been planning this for months. This is a big deal. As a life time homeschooler, this counts as the very first out-of-home, organized, fully separate, signed up for activity.

She was thrilled. Said she did the best pull up, that some kids couldn't even do one, and she did it easy, better than anyone she thinks, and she met a new friend, though she couldn't remember her name, then something about a trampoline, a booty drop, and she misses me and see you tomorrow, bye....

I wasn't there, obviously. Home sick. That was planned for as well. Never any mention of me going, not on a Saturday. So I worked every day I could, to set her up for success. We read through the rules, tried on her new leotard and practiced in the front yard. I was the coach, she the ever ready, endless energy spasmoid. I sat down mostly, gave funny orders and clapped. The social part would be easy, she chooses friends anywhere, it was the waiting in line part that I thought might be a stumper. No problem apparently. The only glitch was my mom putting on the leotard backwards. She had to stop and change it. But that wasn't in her story, she was the best. Wow.

My dad took pictures. Mom said there were other grandparents there too. I wonder if they were filling in, their daughters home sick, recovering from something. I bet they had a blast, all together. I bet she'll show me her moves when she gets home. Can't wait to watch her face. Crazy.

So I'm home. A reduced dose, but I can't feel it. The reduction that is, just as bad as any Saturday. Lame.