Stella had her first day of kindergarten on Monday, and I’ve had several people ask me about how I’m feeling about all of this. I still remember the first day Zack and I dropped her off at her sweet little preschool when she was a spunky two-year-old girl; my eyes welled as we walked back to our car, and she was only going to be there for a couple of hours two mornings a week.
I thought I would be a goner as kindergarten approached. This would be the first time in Stella’s life that she would be at school for a full day, five days a week. From this point on, things weren’t going to be the same.
Yet Monday arrived and honestly, my mind was racing with all of the things we had to accomplish before getting out the door, the thoughts of making sure we arrived early so we could get a parking spot, all of these details, that I didn’t get emotional. And to be honest, Stella has been under such a sassy spell lately that the thought of her getting back into a school routine and not having her be my responsibility for a few hours felt like a weight being lifted.
Does that make me a bad mom? Because it’s hard to admit that I wasn’t clinging to her Monday morning, giggling with her over breakfast, and then gently doing her hair with ABBA’s “Slipping through my Fingers” playing in the background.
Instead, I had to ask her twenty times in a row to finish eating her breakfast so that we could get her dressed in her new outfit we picked out for her to wear. She subsequently complained about the fit of her shorts and we had to do a quick change before taking photos.
She wanted her hair in pigtail braids with ribbons, a hairstyle we’ve never and I mean never done before and suddenly it needed to be perfected for her first day of school.
This morning marked the second day of kindergarten and the first full day. That meant making sure her lunch was packed, water bottle filled. Again with pigtail braids and ribbons. Apparently this will be her signature hairstyle for kindergarten? Both mornings, the first attempt wasn’t good enough and I needed to do it again. Forget the school bus. It’s all struggle bus over here.
I get mad at myself for getting so easily frustrated with her. I want to be the mom who sends her daughter off with a smile and well wishes for a great day. Yet by the time she’s ready to step into school, I feel a sense of relief. I can put my focus on our little Margot, who is still little enough that I can drag her on errands without (many) complaints. And she doesn’t have enough vocabulary to scold me for “interrupting” her, or say she wishes she could be the adult and not the kid, like her sister does.
This meme hits it on the head for me:
The thing is, it’s only DAY TWO. My hope is that some things will get easier, but my anticipation is that some days will be better, and some will just be a struggle. Isn’t that how it always is anyway?
I feel like this blog post is my little Hunger Games salute to fellow moms (and dads) who might be feeling the way I do. Beneath the cute PB Kids backpack and pigtails is a morning full of repeating myself at increasing volume, outfit changes, and constant begging to finish breakfast.
It did finally happen for me though. The welling in the eyes. Feeling overwhelmed by the thought of my first girl’s world growing in ways I won’t be present for at every moment. We were sitting together on the couch this morning, after she woke me up a little after 6:00am (maybe that’s why I’m so short with her in the mornings). I was scratching her back and looking at her face and thinking about the day ahead of her, the things she’ll learn, the friends she’ll meet.
It was early enough in the morning that we weren’t quite rushing yet. It was quiet. And in the quiet, I realized how much things have changed around here.
Then of course, it was off to the races. “Please eat your english muffin. Just two more bites. One big bite. PLEASE EAT YOUR ENGLISH MUFFIN.” Backpack packed. Water bottle filled. Shoes on. A kiss goodbye.
And, as the door closed, a sigh of relief. We made it through another morning. Her teeth are brushed. Her hair is braided.
She’s ready to take on the world. And I’m ready to take a break… during Margot’s nap time, that is.