Emma's First Day of Kindergarten

Motherhood is often about transitions, and we try our hardest to both love and let go well.  Love happens to be the easy part.  Today, my Emma Grace, you started kindergarten.  We have been talking about this day for quite a while, and maybe it is just a credit to how very much I love your daddy, but I was more nervous this morning than on my wedding day.  That day, I knew that I was marrying my best friend.  This morning, I was letting one of my best girls spread her wings more than ever before, and it was tough.

On Monday, we got to go to your Open House and meet your teacher and see the other kids.

   

You were so excited.  After, you wished that school would start the very next day.  I wished that it wouldn’t start for quite some time.  Don’t get me wrong, I am so happy for you.  It’s just that I love spending time with you, and I will miss you.  Monday, you told me, “Mom, it’s kind of like Mrs. P. (your teacher) will be my mom because I will spend all day with her.”  Now, if you’re a mother someday, you’ll understand that I didn’t take this personally but did feel a sinking in my heart.  I told you that you would have so much fun learning with your new teacher, but I will always be your mommy. 

Yesterday, the reality of the new change started to sink in for you.  First thing in the morning, you told me, “I am so glad I got you for a mom, the best mom in the whole world.  I got the very best mommy.”  Of course, this is said by most kids, but somehow it still makes a parent feel warm and fuzzy.  It is kind of like “I love you,” often used but still powerful when you can feel the emotion behind it.  Your kind words and sweet snuggles started my day off right.  You also said, “Saturday and Sunday are going to be my favorite days.”  I assured you that you would have so much fun at school, but Saturday and Sunday would be my favorite days, too.  We finished the Little House book These Happy Golden Years, snuggling and reading together most of the afternoon.

Last night, you picked out your dress.  I ironed it and laid it out for you and found a matching hair bow.  This morning, about 15 minutes before we planned to leave, you told me you wanted a different dress and hairstyle.  Normally, I would tell you that it was too late and you’d have to wear it the next day, but I wanted you to feel confident today, so I quickly ironed your other dress and styled your hair.  Then, Daddy took lots of pictures of you for me.  I took video.  On the video, you said you were most excited to “ride the bus,” which is funny, because it’s one of the hardest things for me to let you do.  Last night after you were in bed, I was crying pretty hard because I was having a tough time with all of this, and then Daddy said that I could always drive behind the school bus.  Pretty soon, we were laughing just as hard as I had been crying at the thought of a line of minivans following the bus, nervous parents forming a conspicuous parade that everyone would notice at each bus stop.

At breakfast, I gave you a kiss on the inside of your hand and wrapped your hand over it, reminding you that mommy’s kiss would stay with you all day.  We have read The Kissing Hand  together before, and you gave me an encouraging smile to let me know you understood.  I handed you your lunchbox which includes some of your favorite foods and a love note from me.  I hope it makes you smile.

When Daddy was taking pictures at our house before school, you were wishing you could just go to school, but then you saw the school bus picking up the kids in the neighborhood, and you smiled so excitedly.  L and I drove you to school, and Daddy came, too, to help drop you off.  

  

 

They had a cool balloon arch at the entrance.  The principal greeted you by name at the door.  We walked you in, stopped at your locker, and went into the classroom.    There were plenty of tears from parents and kids, and the little boy sitting next to you was crying hardest of all, poor thing.  I was worried this might get to you.  You looked very serious and somewhat concerned, but you stayed so brave.

 

After a few minutes, I could tell that I wasn’t going to stay as brave as you were, so I gave you one more kiss on your hand, asked you one more time if you wanted me to pick you up (and you said you still wanted to take the bus), reminded you to be a good listener, and told you that I couldn’t wait to hear about your fun day.

The school had a Kindergarten / New Parent breakfast after, or as your teacher dubs it, a “Boo Hoo Breakfast.”  We went, and while we were having breakfast in the library, only one class walked by the windows.  It was yours!  You gave us the biggest smile and wave, and it was such a priceless moment for me.  I was very grateful to see you so happy, comfortably walking in line, looking confident. 

 

After the breakfast, L and I drove away.  When we got home, I felt such an empty, sick feeling.  Though I know it sounds cheesy, I truly feel like part of my heart is inside your school.  I am so very proud of what a big girl you are becoming, thrilled to see you so excited to meet new kids and learn new things, so I will do my best to keep my tears to myself.  I want you to have the chance to love school for the wonderful place it can be, full of magical learning and fun friends, teachers who put their whole hearts into their job, and experiences that you will remember fondly.  I am happy that L will get what you got your first two years, lots of one-on-one time with me.  Still, she and I will both miss you very much.  She started playing dollhouse shortly after we got home.  I overheard her role playing with the dolls, saying, “Your sister, Emma, is at school.”  This summer, you told me that you will miss playing with her.  This will be an adjustment for all of us, but I can’t wait to hear about all that you experience.  The time we do have at home will continue to be sweet family time, but your world is getting bigger, and I am very proud of the little girl that I am sending out into it.  I love you with all my heart, my precious kindergartner.   

And now that you are home from school, I have to quickly add that you came home very happy. "The bus!" was your favorite part of kindergarten. When I asked why you, a devout lover of food, ate very little of your lunch, you said, "He said that it was almost time for recess, and I didn't want to miss recess!" Finally, you told me that you cried at recess time. I love how you articulate things: "Mom, I cried. I looked all around, and there were so many strangers everywhere. There was not a glimpse of Mrs. P. anywhere. Then, a lady with a green shirt and a microphone came up to me and asked who my teacher was. I cried more. Then, someone made the right guess of who my teacher was, and they called Mrs. P. over. I stopped crying when I saw her." Though I wished I could have been there for you, I am happy to hear you got the help you needed and proud of you for being such a brave girl on the bus. You can't wait to go back tomorrow! And now, I need to go snuggle with you and read our last Little House book, The First Four Years, per your request. So much changed today, but our connection is still as strong as ever. Can't wait to share a good book with my favorite kindergartner.

Sweet Spot

This summer has been such a parenting sweet spot. I have always been a baby and toddler person, but I quickly learned that having my own babies and toddlers was an awe-inspiring but unrelenting task. As my babies have grown into young children, I have discovered that I not only love them more with each passing day, I enjoy each new stage more, too. And I am head over heels in love with their current stage. Seriously, I can’t get over how cool it is to have a five year old and a three year old.

Five is truly my new favorite age. Emma is happy much of the time, sweet almost always, funny and creative in remarkable ways, and altogether lovely. Though she has her moments like any kid, she absolutely brightens our home daily. When I had a stomach bug earlier this week, she made me the most beautiful card that she thought of herself, found the supplies for, decorated, and wrote, all without any help: “EMMA LOVES MOMMY. LOVE [picture of a heart] EMMA AND LILY.” She enthusiastically pointed out that she wrote her letters in my favorite color, blue. On the inside, she drew our family, all holding hands under a bright and golden sun. She gave me a very colorful and stylish dress. On the back, she drew a sun with a big “MOM” underneath. I mean, five years of round the clock care can’t even buy that kind of love. I melted. Though I was feeling pretty rough, it cheered me up the instant I saw it and her proud, beaming face. The card also symbolized why this stage of parenting isn’t quite as exhausting. She is beginning to do things herself and do them well. She is able to get herself dressed, can help get out her snack if I am busy, and can even buckle herself in her car seat. Small victories, maybe, but a world of help when it is often 2 kids to 1 adult trying to get somewhere.

Emma is also so creative. She and Lily play a Memory game, “I Never Forget a Face,” that has multicultural pictures of people from around the globe. They both confidently name each person’s country of origin: “Haiti, Afghanistan, Tanzania, Bolivia, Russia, Scotland,” and on and on. They both start laughing when they come to Hawaii, saying, “Hawaii’s not a country!” They love their new game, which they were given as a gift last month. Well, this week, like many families around the globe, we have been watching the Olympics. Being a teacher, I wanted to get out a map so that they could see where each athlete came from. Emma went and got her game and started placing the faces on the corresponding countries. Seeing her mature into someone capable of thinking of that herself, much less doing it, is such a joy. I thank God for her growing mind and her passion for learning. Kids are sponges, and Emma definitely loves to soak up information. I love to have fun learning together.

The thought of sending her to school full time in a few weeks breaks my heart. I told my hubby, “I feel like I’ve put in all these years with her, and now she is getting to such an incredible stage, and I have to share her.” The truth is, I would have had trouble sharing her if she was five months or fifteen years. It probably has less to do with the stage and more to do with a huge transition for me. I feel blessed that I have had this time with her. It wasn’t always easy, but it was so worth it. As she heads to school, I know she will learn a ton, have a wonderful time interacting with her peers, and benefit so much from the great school she will be at, but it still hurts to think of letting her go. I question if I’ve taught her enough, played with her often enough, taken enough advantage of each moment I’ve had with her. In the beginning, the time really didn’t go that quickly. There were sleepless nights and days filled with crying (usually her tears, sometimes mine.) However, somewhere along the line, time began to seemingly pick up the pace. I feel now like things are on fast forward, and I wonder if I’ve fully taken advantage of all of the moments I’ve had. I hope she looks back someday and feels like I did.

As Emma heads to kindergarten, the only one more devastated than me will probably be Lily. The girls are the best of friends. I mean that. They play together almost constantly, coming up with so many imaginative plays, scenarios, tea parties, and reading sessions. They are beyond my best dreams for what sisters could be together. I fear that Lily will be adrift without her favorite big sis. For her part, Emma has told me she will miss Lily. Three is a rather challenging age, with emotions often wide ranging, potty battles ongoing, and opinions bigger than independent skills and abilities. However, the girls’ tight bond allows me to adore this parenting stage, even with Lily still going through the difficult transition of three. Lily is so joyful when they play and create together, it often pulls her out of the toughness of three and makes her beam proudly and reach farther than she would alone. I am grateful that I will have one-on-one time with her like I got with Emma in the beginning and that she can discover who she is without a mastermind behind her creative games. Still, I know that I can’t compete with a big sis whose imagination carries Lily places I might not even think of now that I’m solidly into adulthood. We still have fun. This morning, I planned a Tea Party breakfast in our three seasons room in celebration of the London Olympics and had two very delighted girls, but I know I have my limitations, brought on by age and the need to handle household tasks throughout the day. I only hope that I can continue to help Lily blossom into all that she is meant to be, that I can remember to take the time to be her playmate and friend as well as her mom. She has such a phenomenal spirit, a sparkle in her eyes and a smile that emanates from within her petite little body. I want to do justice to the precious gift I was given in her.

Change is always hard. This year, we’ve moved, and now I need to prepare to send my oldest to full day kindergarten and my youngest to preschool a few hours a week. I am definitely struggling with the emotions of this transition. When I think about all that I have been entrusted with, I am overwhelmed with gratitude and humbled by the ways I could have probably done better the past five years.

As I was in the middle of typing that last sentence, Emma just came in to ask for help with something. Feeling reflective, I asked her, “Do you think, in the past five years, I’ve done okay as your mommy?” Thoughts of times I’d checked my Facebook account or put her off for “just one more minute” that turned into twenty as I checked laundry or called a friend came to my mind.

She looked at me, said, “Mmm-hmm,” paused for a moment, then said, “I love having you for a mommy so much. I don’t think any other mommy would be just perfect for me.”

Wow! Did I mention that I love having a five year old? It doesn’t hurt that she’s the absolutely perfect five year old for me. So thankful today that I was given two girls that I love with all my heart. Through the transition ahead, they will still be my girls, and I will still be their mom. And that is the sweetest spot of all.