I have somehow found myself here again. Here being the eve of Kindergarten. I did this once before, this Kindergarten thing, with my first baby. But it’s not easier.
In fact, it’s harder.
Harder because I see the result of Kindergarten walking around in my kitchen, shirtless, leaving cupboards open, wrappers on the counter, explaining to me the evolution of Pokemon and then using some sarcastic tone that I clearly never taught him on how inconceivable it is that I don’t understand said evolution time table.
Before Kindergarten, my first baby, he held my hand and let me give him kisses. Before Kindergarten, he wanted to play games with me. Go on bike rides and walks with me. Before Kindergarten, he wanted to sit by me. Read a book with me. Snuggle with me.
But now, because I let him go off to Kindergarten, and therefore graduate Kindergarten and so forth, now he gives me his cheek or his forehead before he goes off to bed. Now he wants to play with friends, and play with friends, and play with friends. And if I bribe him or trick him or force him to go on a walk with me, I endure ten minutes of award worthy eight-year-old pouting. Followed by a solid three minutes of don’t-be-so-selfish-watch-your-attitude lecturing. Topped off with a you-know-I-really-love-you segue into our five minutes of true quality togetherness before the can-we-go-home-my-legs-hurt. Ugh. Kindergarten!
Yes. I am blaming Kindergarten.
In fact, I hate Kindergarten.
Kindergarten introduced this whole new world of adventure. My son discovered he could read and spell and count. He found a love for numbers and patterns and most anything crafty. He made friends with kids I never knew existed. Kids whom I couldn’t pre-screen. Kindergarten reinforced my son’s kind and tender heart. He developed his moral compass of good and bad, right and wrong. He did these things on his own. Without me.
And now, now I am about to send my second son, my little Moo, out into this “AMAZING” world of self-discovery, academia and wonder. This world they call Kindergarten. Ugh. I really don’t want to.
Right now, before he walks his blue sneakers and oversized backpacked self into the doors of that school, he still snuggles with his mommy. He needs me to read to him at night and to tie his shoes. He needs me fix his boo-boos and console his heartache. Before Kindergarten, I am still Mommy.In just a few short days, I fear, I will become just mom.
Mom! Can I have a snack?
Mom! Where are my shoes?
Mom! All my friends are walking down to Casey’s and then going to the secret fort in the woods. Can I go?
I hate Kindergarten.
I don’t hate it for my kids. I love it for them. I love the wonder. I love the academia. I love and encourage the self-discovery. I hate it for me. ME. Kindergarten is their first adventure where I am not in the driver’s seat. I am merely a passenger along for the ride.
It is hard to let go of that steering wheel. Very hard.
Oh Little Buddy, my Mr. Moo, you were born to fly. I just wish time didn’t fly by so fast.
Love you to the moon,
To all the mommas out there letting go and watching your kids fly off… HUGS!!
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