First Day Fun

We did it! Emma and I made it through her first day (actually hour) of preschool. There were three bouts of tears, all of them mine, though I did not let her see me cry. I was also very proud of her…that, I let her see as much as possible. Our morning started with me explaining to her that there would be lots of moms and dads there this morning, and it might seem loud and busy, but after a few minutes, the parents would go, and it would be just the kids and teachers like it is at church or ballet. She didn’t say much. Then, when she and I were alone in the bathroom before we left, she said, “Mommy, when there are a lot of people when we get there, Lily will cry because she will be scared. I won’t cry, though. I don’t cry anymore because I’m a big girl.” Though we do still have tears regularly, I figured this was her self-talk, so I just listened and wondered what the coming hour would bring. Shortly after this, we loaded into the minivan and drove to pick up Daddy at work. As soon as he got in the minivan, Emma explained to him, “There are going to be lots of people there when we get there, all the mommies and daddies, but in four minutes, they will go, and then it will be calmer.” He looked at me, and we both smiled, thinking maybe she was more prepared for this than we thought.

 

When we got to the school, the first two families we saw were familiar faces, always comforting. We stopped for a quick family picture. Then, as we entered the school, I felt the tears coming for the second time. The first time had been before the girls got up. I quickly looked away and got them under control. Then, we headed down the hall to the preschool lockers. A friend of mine described it as paparazzi, and it definitely had that feel. Cameras, video cameras, and excited but nervous parents abounded. Each three-year-old was standing against the locker bearing his or her name. Emma quickly identified hers by herself, placed her backpack inside, and then backed against her locker as if it had super glue-like properties. I think it was her island of relative tranquility in the chaos. Conant took pictures, I took video, and we both gave her encouraging smiles. Lily wore her “Little Sister” shirt in support. Emma had on a new dress and leggings for the big day and her hair was in the neatest piggy tales I could manage this morning. Emma saw two of her friends there, and she stood next to another little girl with her same name.

 

In the few minutes that the kids waited in the hall for school to start, Emma remained quite somber, taking it all in and sticking close to her locker. I think she was summoning all of her strength to remain brave. Then, her teacher came over and told all of the kids to “fly like butterflies” into the classroom. Emma began flapping her wings, “flying” away from us and into the safe cocoon of her classroom. Her teacher and assistant seem so loving, the classroom so bright and cheery, that I felt like she was landing in very capable hands. Conant, Lily, and I watched her through the doorway. She went and sat in a circle just like the other kids, listening intently to her new teacher. We walked to the van. I told Conant, “I feel like I just left a part of me in that school” as we drove away. After dropping him off at work, I headed back to the school, as they only stayed an hour today. When Lily and I were alone in the car, I began to think about how blessed I am that we have Emma at all, given the complications of my other pregnancies. Then I began crying again, praying that she would be taken care of whether I am around or not. We waited outside of the classroom when it was time for pick up, and Emma was one of the first ones to come out. She proudly showed me her hand. She said, “Look, Mama, I got a s…sss…it’s not a sticker, it’s a staple.” I looked down, and it was a stamp of a smiling sun. She has never seen stamps before, so she was pretty excited. I was just glad no one had stapled her hand. Next, she told me about her friend who had cried because she missed her mommy. I took a picture of her with her friend and then with her teacher, and we prepared to go. On the way out, I had her quickly take me in the classroom. When I asked her what her favorite part of the room was, she said, “the books.” I looked over at the books and noticed that the teaching assistant was putting some handprint paintings away. Emma is not a fan of getting messy, so I wondered how that went. The teachers told me that she did really well, but she was very careful to wash her hands meticulously after the paint. I breathed a sigh of relief. My baby really is growing up.

 

We left school and drove to get a treat to celebrate. Emma chose to get two tiny warm donuts at the farmer’s market, and I picked out a flower for my sweet preschooler. When we got home, she called her Grandma to tell her about her day. It was amazing to hear about her life apart from me, and I was grateful that she is so articulate and willing to share the details. Today was tougher on me than on Emma, but I feel very fortunate that she is in a loving school with a teacher that seems so devoted to the kids. If Emma can dip her hand in paint on the very first day of school, she can do absolutely anything. I can hardly wait to see all that she does, learns, and tells us this school year.