Decision making is not my greatest trait. (That may be the understatement of the year, right there.) There's something about the possibility of making the wrong choice that makes my throat swell up, my stomach flip-flop, and my head basically spin circles (think "The Exorcist" with a little less of the "possessed" factor).
You see, I am terrified of failing. I know, not a very good trait to have considering life is pretty much guaranteed to be filled with big decisions and even some ::gasp:: failures. It's my perfectionism at its finest.
So, you can imagine how making a choice of what school to send my oldest daughter gives me a heart attack to the Nth degree. Logically, my dear brain reminds me that she will get a good education wherever we send her. Emotionally? I am FREAKING out. I mean, what if I make the wrong choice? This decision doesn't just affect me, it's my daughter. It's her LIFE.
The wanna-be free spirit in me is intrigued by the Artful Learning and wants my daughter's creativity to be overly nourished and encouraged. The straight-laced rule follower in me doesn't want to risk something "different" and thinks that traditional school worked just fine for my husband and I, so it'll be just fine for my daughter.
Ultimately, I know that whatever we decide, wherever she goes, it will all work out. And, if we really dislike her Kindergarten year, we can always try a different school the next year. But oh, the pressure I'm putting on myself. I almost can't breathe.
So, excuse me while I go curl up in the corner and rock back and forth. But first I'll go treat myself to a hazelnut mocha. That's a decision I can always make just fine.