Twas the night before Pre-School and momma was a hot mess
Dear CW,
You have what you call a golfing outfit laid out. It's a blue polo with khaki shorts. As soon as your dad came home from work, you asked him if he wanted to know something. You said "Tomorrow my education is coming up." That's your fancy four-year-old way of saying, you have preschool orientation tomorrow.
Earlier I caught you in the bathroom, intently scrubbing your shoes. I asked you what you were doing. You replied, "I'm cleaning my shoes, I don't want to get preschool all dirty." This, right here, is the moment I want to freeze you in. Your excitement about your new journey. Your ability to think through to your consequences already. Your innocence about how the world works. Your eagerness to get things right. Your precious little face, and your oh so tiny little hands. I want to keep you here, like this, with me, forever. But, that's not how this works.
My Facebook is filling up with first day of school pictures. Collages of kids of how they've grown from the start of each school year. I'm also seeing memes of parents who are beyond thrilled summer break is over. They are happy to get a break from their children. I need someone to help me understand that last one.
I'm struggling here. For the first time since I found out I was pregnant with you, you're going off into the world with out me. I can no longer protect you every part of the day. I can't censor you from hurt or bad. You are out there. Vulnerable. Innocent. Essentially on your own, for longer than you ever have been. All you can talk about now, is coloring, and making friends. I know it's not going to be that simple. I never want to push my fears onto you, but soon you're going to figure this out all on your own. I'm here, waiting for you, when that happens.
So you see, letting you go onto this next milestone, is bittersweet for me. I'm excited to see you grow as a person, from a boy, to a man. I'm excited to watch all those light bulbs go off when you finally grasp a concept. I am eager to see who you choose as your friends, and which ones will become your lifelong accomplices. I'm curious what your interests will be, and what you have a knack for. But I'm also finding it hard to realize the time has come, to start setting you free, little by little.
You're only mine for such a short time in this life. I know once you board the school bus, the years are only going to go by that much faster. Each year, that yellow bus will arrive earlier and earlier. Who would want to rush this? I surely do not. I can only take solace in knowing that the time we do have to spend together is always cherished. I will never rush you to grow older. Time will do that for me, all too soon.
We're going to tackle this new adventure together. I thought for a while you were going to need me more, but I know it's the other way now. So bare with me child. I promise to hold in my tears as we wave goodbye that first day, until you are out of sight. I promise you, I will be wondering what you are doing every minute that first day you are gone. I promise when you come home, I will listen to your day, with honest interest. I want to hear every, little bit. I will pray that your first day is as magical as you have been dreaming. That you color all the pictures, and you meet all wonderful kids who will become your friends. Take comfort in knowing, that when it doesn't always go how you imagined, and it will, that your mom will always be here to listen and to comfort you.
You got this. We got this.
Now. Go kick pre-school's butt with those newly cleaned shoes.
Momma Loves you
You have what you call a golfing outfit laid out. It's a blue polo with khaki shorts. As soon as your dad came home from work, you asked him if he wanted to know something. You said "Tomorrow my education is coming up." That's your fancy four-year-old way of saying, you have preschool orientation tomorrow.
Earlier I caught you in the bathroom, intently scrubbing your shoes. I asked you what you were doing. You replied, "I'm cleaning my shoes, I don't want to get preschool all dirty." This, right here, is the moment I want to freeze you in. Your excitement about your new journey. Your ability to think through to your consequences already. Your innocence about how the world works. Your eagerness to get things right. Your precious little face, and your oh so tiny little hands. I want to keep you here, like this, with me, forever. But, that's not how this works.
My Facebook is filling up with first day of school pictures. Collages of kids of how they've grown from the start of each school year. I'm also seeing memes of parents who are beyond thrilled summer break is over. They are happy to get a break from their children. I need someone to help me understand that last one.
I'm struggling here. For the first time since I found out I was pregnant with you, you're going off into the world with out me. I can no longer protect you every part of the day. I can't censor you from hurt or bad. You are out there. Vulnerable. Innocent. Essentially on your own, for longer than you ever have been. All you can talk about now, is coloring, and making friends. I know it's not going to be that simple. I never want to push my fears onto you, but soon you're going to figure this out all on your own. I'm here, waiting for you, when that happens.
So you see, letting you go onto this next milestone, is bittersweet for me. I'm excited to see you grow as a person, from a boy, to a man. I'm excited to watch all those light bulbs go off when you finally grasp a concept. I am eager to see who you choose as your friends, and which ones will become your lifelong accomplices. I'm curious what your interests will be, and what you have a knack for. But I'm also finding it hard to realize the time has come, to start setting you free, little by little.
You're only mine for such a short time in this life. I know once you board the school bus, the years are only going to go by that much faster. Each year, that yellow bus will arrive earlier and earlier. Who would want to rush this? I surely do not. I can only take solace in knowing that the time we do have to spend together is always cherished. I will never rush you to grow older. Time will do that for me, all too soon.
We're going to tackle this new adventure together. I thought for a while you were going to need me more, but I know it's the other way now. So bare with me child. I promise to hold in my tears as we wave goodbye that first day, until you are out of sight. I promise you, I will be wondering what you are doing every minute that first day you are gone. I promise when you come home, I will listen to your day, with honest interest. I want to hear every, little bit. I will pray that your first day is as magical as you have been dreaming. That you color all the pictures, and you meet all wonderful kids who will become your friends. Take comfort in knowing, that when it doesn't always go how you imagined, and it will, that your mom will always be here to listen and to comfort you.
You got this. We got this.
Now. Go kick pre-school's butt with those newly cleaned shoes.
Momma Loves you
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