onetiredmama: Lessons To Learn

From our provider:

Rate This Article

0 Comments

I've just slammed into the corner that turns Summer into Fall, and I realize the pack of tomatoes and peppers I bought in the Spring are still in their plastic six pack. I never had a chance to plant them. Didn't we just get the patio furniture down from the garage loft? Whatever weird time-warp phenomenon caused the Summer to zip by, did the same thing to my son's first 5 years. It seems like turning a corner, too, from the baby days to the big boy years. He's ready for kindergarten. But I am not.

I've been gearing up for his first day all summer. I need to. I know many parents get weepy on the first day of school, but my emotions run like a deep sea inside me with a wicked rip current if I'm not careful to keep them perfectly in check when watching movies on Lifetime or any commercial with a baby in it. I learned the true severity of this problem on my wedding day. As I stepped out of that little hidey-hole room in the church for the brides, the trumpet sounded, the guests rose and I started crying like I was being marched to my death. Not "Awww, how sweet!" crying. It was turn to your neighbor and ask "Is she going to run?" crying. I was rolled over by a sentimental semi. The enormity of the day weighing on me swept me up into an emotional storm. After stammering through the vows, I was fine. But just knowing that one of the most important days of my life was here, seeing my loved ones all smiling at me, and thinking about the ones who weren't there well, it just stunned me as I made that long walk down the aisle.

Here comes the blubbering bride...

So, I was well prepared to be a puddle of tears on Jack's first day of school. Even though Jack wouldn't be taking the bus. Even though I'd already talked with his teacher 4 times on the phone over the summer and visited the classroom with him three times. Even though he'd been going to preschool and working with teachers since he was 2 because of his autistic spectrum diagnosis. Even though if I could have crafted a Kindergarten teacher out of clay, it would be Mrs. Davison. I am very confident that he's going to be in excellent hands. But, they're not my hands. I'm turning over 1080 hours of Jack's life this next year to someone else. Someone else will be molding him, helping him grow. Am I ready to leave him with some other woman to take care of for a good part of the day? To roam freely with 20 other kids? By himself? My heart pounds at the mere thought of it. If there was enough shrubbery around the building I would hide in it and peer in the window until 2:20 pm for the first few days. Maybe with a pair of walkie-talkies.

Look who's cool on the first day of school!