Last week was absolutely insane around our house/life. For starters (and definitely most importantly) Cute Kid started kindergarten. Big girl school. Practically college.

I've joked around that walking her into kindergarten was the moment of our lives I've been working for since I found out I was preggers 6 years ago. But, in reality, it's really not a joke at all.

When I think about pushing her out, raising her, teaching her things to say and not to say (and who you can and cannot say them in front of), and how to deal with bullies (David's much better at this than my hot head is), and how to make good choices, and to eat all your lunch, and all the other things that David and I have been teaching her for years, walking her into her first day of kindergarten really, really was the singular moment that we've worked years for.

We walked her into school, with me holding her hand even though she was trying with all her might to wiggle out, and took her to her class room and waited for the teacher. When her teacher arrived, she gave Cute Kid a little hug and welcomed her to her first day of class, and then she was gone. She walked on in without a backwards glance.

It was then that I realized what those 6 years gave her, and us. We've made her independent and strong, something that's honestly a bit of an issue around the house, but in the "real world" I'm so grateful. She didn't cling to us for a minute, but curiously moved forward to check everything out.

David and I took the hint and left, joking about grabbing mimosas immediately. We had done it. We had sent that Cute Kid into the world, with everything we've taught her. Even though it's just kindergarten, I'm really very proud of her, and really very proud of us too.

I'll be honest, I didn't cry. I thought about it, wondering if I would, but I didn't. Not that morning.

It was two mornings later, when she asked us to drop her off at the gym with all the other kids, when I saw her get out of the car and strut her little self into that big ol' building all on her own with that big ol' backpack on her back, and with all the independence a 5-yr old can have, that I teared up. Just a bit.

And so, Cute Kid has begun kindergarten. She's decided that she wants to be a chef when she grows up. Just like me, supposedly. I can't wait to introduce her to the magic of my food Pinterest board. Blow her mind.

I'm just glad she's over the "I wanna be a rockstar" phase. I'd rather have a good soufflé any day.