Oh, be still my heart, they are ready to go to school. When did this happen? How did that creature time lurk in the shadows and pull those baby years away so fast that now my little girls are proudly walking to the car with their lunchbox in tow beyond excited about their first day of “school”? Okay, it’s only preschool, but it seems so momentous for them. No one can convince them that this day does not define their adulthood in their sweet eyes.
So much energy was spent preparing them, talking to them, reminding them, teaching them, and getting them ready for their first day. Now, the day is here, and they look so sweet. They match in their pink dresses with blue flowers, and their smiles reflect the excitement on each others face as they giggle. They hold hands, and they walk confidently, not missing a step, toward their future. They wave at new soon to be friends, they smile big in their first day of school picture, and they proudly place their lunchbox on the proper table. They almost lead me up the stairs, and I struggle to hold their hands as they pull me forward.
Door one brings us to Mila’s door. She smiles and waves and sits to take off her shoes. She is at home. My heart is happy. Her lovey is handed to her teacher, and sissy and I stand to go. She tries to follow, and my heart breaks a little because I know her two year old self doesn’t fully understand that today is her first full day without her best friend, her sister, who has always been nearby. Sissy and I lean down and hug and kiss our sweet Mila. She loves on us in return and turns to play blocks. She’s fine. I think I’m fine. Sissy is definitely fine because she is leading me toward her door.
We walk to Kenley’s room which is two doors down and she walks in. She immediately starts pulling at nearby toys, and I patiently prompt her to wait. She, as patiently as she could, listens. When her teacher comes to her, Kenley responds to her questions excitedly, ready to play, and ready to be a big girl. Her lovey is put away, and signatures are provided by mom. At next glance, Kenley is playing. She’s fine. I think I’m fine. I give her a quick hug. I walk away. My heart breaks a little.
They’re fine. I knew this day would come. I know they will have fun, and they are in good hands. I think I’m fine. My mind is reeling with what if’s and did I forget’s and maybe I should call’s. Of course after leaving I returned to remind Kenley’s teacher of information she already knew and recited for me. Of course I called my mom and cried. Of course I called my best friend and woke her up at 8am only to list my worries. Of course I called my husband to give the breakdown of the morning. Of course I called to check on both of them during the day. Of course I talked about them all day to anyone who would listen. Of course I looked at their picture taken this morning at least a dozen times. Of course I raced over as quickly as I possibly could at the end of the day to rescue them…and they were fine. Instead, they rescued me. They were playing. They were happy. They were learning. They were still excited, and they were happy to see each other. They rescued me from my worry and from my fears. My little girls were okay, and there was nothing to worry over. The first day came and went…just like that.
Oh, moms everywhere, this business is hard, isn’t it? By far, this is the most difficult job I have ever been called to do. Relentess worrying for naught. Long evenings and mornings. Energy that will never be recovered both at work and at home (still work). Even when out of sight, the pull of the heart is constant. This is preschool moms, and it’s harder for you than it is for them. But I know one thing…I will never be ready for college.