As a new school year rolls around, I find myself inhaling the fresh scent of a box of brand new crayons with a sense of nostalgia. My eldest child, my little star, is heading off to kindergarten this year, marking the start of a bittersweet journey.
My spirited little sunshine, Emma, is a firecracker whose playful antics can either make me laugh or drive me to distraction. She was the baby who clung to me at the gym daycare, screaming like a banshee whenever I tried to sneak away for a quick workout. Instead of breaking a sweat on the treadmill, I spent most of my time wrestling with my yoga pants while being paged to retrieve my upset child. After countless interruptions, I finally threw in the towel on my gym membership, promising myself I’d hit the treadmill again once she started preschool. But just like that, she was two, and I had devoted 821 days to her every whim. This mama needed some “me” time.
On that first day of school, I cleared my calendar and planned to chill in the library, fully expecting to be called back to the classroom to comfort her when she inevitably lost it. I hyped her up all the way to school, gushing about the fun toys and new friends waiting for her. I’m fairly certain she didn’t grasp a word of my excitement, but hey, a mom can try, right?
As I snapped her picture outside the school doors, a lump formed in my throat. What if she cried? What if I couldn’t even get a goodbye kiss? It was her first big step away from me, and I just wanted it to go well.
To my surprise, she didn’t cry at all. In fact, I had to chase her into the classroom for a quick peck goodbye. That overwhelming feeling of mommy guilt melted away; she was happy, and that made me happy.
Days turned into weeks without my little toddler, and soon I was imagining a return to a full-time job, complete with adult lunches and quiet moments. The terrible twos were nothing compared to the tempestuous threes, and I was just trying to survive motherhood one chaotic day at a time. There were countless times I looked around my messy house, yearning for just five minutes of peace. Emma’s sass was off the charts, and I learned quickly that yelling wouldn’t help. Instead, I’d find a corner to scream in silence and dream of a shower without an audience.
Then came the moment I realized my own mother had been a bit of a fibber. She had promised that four would be a breeze, but lo and behold, it was just as challenging as three. Daily battles raged over outfits—no purple, only cats—and shoes were forever too tight or too loose. It felt like every day was a new warzone.
I spent more hours than I’d like to admit letting her binge-watch “Ruby Gloom” on Netflix while I scoured job boards for freelance gigs. I longed for the days of rational adults who didn’t consider chicken nuggets and sticky jam fashion statements.
When friends expressed their hesitations about sending their kids to all-day kindergarten, I scoffed. “My child will love it!” I boasted, secretly thrilled at the thought of uninterrupted productivity. But once again, time seemed to slip through my fingers. As I signed Emma up for kindergarten, I felt that familiar lump return. What if she doesn’t even stop to say goodbye? This incredible little being I’d spent 1,898 days nurturing was taking another leap away from me. Suddenly, I found myself longing for those days of sticky kisses and adorable giggles.
It’s a whirlwind of emotions, both heartbreaking and exhilarating. All I can do is hold back the tears and try not to blink as I send her off on this new adventure.
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Summary:
As a new school year begins, a mother reflects on her child’s transition to kindergarten, grappling with the emotions of watching her daughter grow and gain independence. The piece captures the chaos and beauty of motherhood, highlighting the bittersweet moments that come with each milestone.