OH HAPPY DAY!

For the past month, I have been overly occupied with some stuff. Stressful stuff. Important stuff. Stuff that kept me awake at night and mainlining carbs, dark chocolate and Dr. Pepper during the day.

So you know how I have that anxiety problem?? That didn't exactly help me deal with this stuff very well. Such is life, though. If you don't know the trials, you can't appreciate the joy; It's only after the rain has passed that you appreciate the sunshine; insert comforting homily that helps you get through the day.

But today, TODAY, everything is bright and shiny and the weight on my shoulders feels ten times lighter. You see, CRCT test scores came back today. Stupid, stupid five days worth of standardizing testing scores that, in Fifth grade, are an all-or-nothing deal; if you don't pass the CRCT, you don't go into Sixth grade. Period.

See this girl right here???


She's smart and funny and creative and energetic and a fabulous person in general who, like her equally talented, funny, smart, etc mother, happens to struggle in math. Math is our Waterloo. It's our Spanish Armada attacking the English Navy. It's our Custer's Last Stand. (You get the idea.) We don't need ONE day of STUPID STANDARDIZED testing in math to judge our worth. But sadly the state of Georgia doesn't agree. So she's been prepping all stinking year. Getting extra help and tutoring. Working on extra math work over every holiday break the entire school year. Sweating and cursing the entire time. (Well, I was cursing. Bella doesn't curse, but I expect she will start sometime around the time she encounters Trigonometry.)

Three days into the RIDICULOUS, STUPID, IDIOTIC standardized testing and it was finally time for the math portion. Oy vey. The stress. The worry. The fear. On all of us. No 11 year old should feel that much pressure.

And then, today. TODAY. The test scores come home. Passing grade! A COMFORTABLE passing grade!! No more worry!! No more stress. We are the RUssians, beating back Napolean! We are the English Navy and a fearful hurricane! We are multiple Indian tribes kicking Custer's arse!!!!

But then I remember my baby is going into Middle School in the fall. MIDDLE SCHOOL. She's so little. And young! The worrying starts all over again.