Dear Henry is in his third month of kindergarten. That sentence alone is kind of mind blowing. I had been dreading (and also looking forward to) the start of kindergarten. The dread came mainly from knowing how Henry, like myself, has a really hard time with transitions. The transition from the cozy comfort of preschool into the big world of kindergarten really started this summer, with Henry knowing that the change was coming. It affected his behavior. He regressed. He was angry and he was mad at the world (and by world I mean Ben and me). It got so crazy-making that I consulted a parenting coach (thumbs up for Sarina at Grow Parenting), who equipped us with some good tools.
And then the big day came. We took him to school and with eyes full of tears he marched into the classroom. That day he came home and his water bottle was full. I asked him why he hadn't drank anything and he told me he couldn't find anyone in the lunchroom to help him open his bottle. I had to leave the room.
The big days kept coming. Looking forward to the beginning of school I was sure that once we had crossed the hurdle and made it to this new, uncharted land of elementary school that Henry would take a few days and then adjust (ha!). The tears, clinging and pleading at drop-off were heart-wrenching. I frantically emailed his teacher asking for advice. Eventually (16 school days later, to be exact), those tears stopped, and to my surprise, that's when I fell apart. It was as if once I knew he was settling in, I could let myself go and really grieve the fact that my child is no longer in a very small world. His world has grown and expanded beyond a level I'm (at present) comfortable with. He interacts with people on a daily basis that I do not know. I have very little idea what actually goes on in the classroom. I am learning to breathe, and trust and focus on the fact that while we all crossed this milestone, it can still be hard for both of us to go through it. And to not judge myself for taking the time to feel the painful tugs when I hear the kids playing on the playground and knowing my kid is one of them.
I can safely say that now that we're through the first few months, he is adjusting. But we still have rough mornings on occasion, and this morning was one of them. So here's the deal: our school offers a before-school recess, which starts at 8:20am. You are allowed to drop your child off and they are completely supervised for a 20 minute recess before the bell rings, giving them an opportunity to chat it up with their friends and get their wiggles out before starting their day of learning. I have a love/hate relationship with before-school recess. I love it for Henry and think it makes him a better student. I hate it for me, because Henry runs and plays with his friends while I stand idly by, not feeling particularly social at 8:20 am (generally unshowered and fresh from the gym) and not feeling like small-talking with the other parents who are also standing idly by.
The problem is that Henry does.not.want.me.to.leave. I mean DOES NOT. He is quite content with having me stand there, in the rain, as was the case today, watching him play with his friends. Some days I am okay with this. Today I was not. There are times I have had to leave him because I had someplace to be. That wasn't the case today. Today is an extremely rare day where I have no plans, or photo shoots, or phone consultations, or obligations until I pick Henry up from school at 2:50pm. I was up at 5:20am to go to the gym. I was sweaty, and tired and really just wanted to get to the couch. So I told Henry I was going to go.
Tears. Oh, the tears. I hugged him, I assured him that all of his friends were there on the playground, as well as one of his teachers. I assured him I would be back for him after school. I assured him that I loved him and that he would have a great day. I tried to put on the "strong mama" face, when I really felt like I was wearing the "selfish mama" face. Would it have killed me to stay the extra 20 minutes? Probably not. Did I feel like perhaps I was teaching a somewhat painful but important lesson to my child? The lesson that he is safe at school and that he can do it without me? Partially. But really my motivations were selfish. I was cold, I didn't want to stand on the playground, and I wanted to go home. So I did.
I walked up the street, crossed the street, stopped on the corner and turned to look back at the playground. There, in his neon green raincoat was my baby, staring up the hill at me, waving. Crying. I broke into a thousand pieces. I stood there frozen, thoughts racing. "Do I go back? What lesson would that teach him? He's going to be fine. In 5 minutes he'll be playing happily. I'll text Katie and ask her for an update." But my feet were planted. I couldn't move. I stood there and watched him, and he watched me. I prayed this wouldn't be a moment he'd remember into adulthood. And then I turned and walked up the hill to home.
These are the things I feel I was unprepared for. Kindergarten is "just" kindergarten, right? Every kid does it, and every kid gets through it. Every parent does it, and every parent gets through it. Logically I know this. Emotionally some days just shred me. Today was one of them. I was looking forward to getting to the couch, to the recycling that needs to be taken out, to the laundry that needs to be put away, to the emails that need to be sent. I am now also very much looking forward to 2:50pm when I get to hug my child and hear about his day.
