That was before today when I had to SAY GOODBYE to my BABY at the front of a drop-off line in a hallway and send him into his preschool classroom all by himself.
This baby:
is in preschool:
I woke up with a feeling of exhaustion and dread. Even though nothing is really all that different, there's just something about the day after Labor Day that makes you feel like a big heap of responsibility has been dropped back on the world.I decided to devote 7-8 a.m. to getting myself ready, and then 8-9 a.m. on Nathan. I forced him out of bed. I made him eat half a cereal bar. He got dressed, not in the new shirt I bought him because you are supposed to wear a new shirt on the first day of school, but in a dinosaur t-shirt he insisted on wearing. That's not how it works! screamed my inner need to compartmentalize. That's a summer shirt! This is fall! Fall shirt! School shirt!
But, you know, whatever.
The back-to-school photo shoot was not awesome. As a mom, all I cared about was getting a back-to-school photo. The iconic photo in front of the front door, with the backpack and the forced smile. The one I will post on Facebook and e-mail to the grandparents today, and then put in his rehearsal dinner slideshow someday when he gets married.
But of course he was too excited. So we got shots like this:
and this:
and then this:
That last photo? That one's in THE HALL. The hall where you say goodbye. We waited in that hall, the one outside the classrooms, with the 3-year-olds on one side and the 4-year-olds on another. We waited ten or so minutes, because of course on the first day of school everyone is early. The line started to move. At orientation the teacher told us that she wanted everyone to say goodbye out in the hall, and then the kids should walk into the room on their own.
As a teacher, I understand this policy. Physically there just isn't enough room to have a bunch of adults crowding the doorway. And it's a good idea to dismiss all those emotional, clingy parents before school starts, so you don't have a situation where they're unsure of when to leave. That's distracting for all involved parties.
And besides, I wasn't going to be one of those parents who couldn't let go.
Except, the line in the hallway started moving. Soon Nathan and I would be on deck to say goodbye. And there was something about the time-sensitive nature of it all, the fact that there was a deadline to say goodbye to your child, that began to stab me in the chest. I felt like I did when my parents dropped me off at college. We got my dorm room set up and my bed lofted, took a quick tour of the town, bought my textbooks, and then there was nothing left to do but say goodbye. I walked my parents down to their car, and I could just feel it coming. The anticipation of the goodbye was probably worse than the actual moment.
Same thing with all the times I had to say goodbye to Bill when he was in law school in Chicago and I still lived in Los Angeles. You'd get off the freeway for the airport. This was it. It's a quick drop-off at the curb, and the TSA isn't concerned about your emotional goodbyes. Move this car, lady! Get on with it.
Anyway, back to preschool. I did the quick kiss and drop off. And on the way home I cried. It was all too much.
Once at home, I sat for a minute and heard myself think. Then I spent an entire hour putting away laundry, something I hadn't done in at least 2 months. Why, why, why, do I let it get to this point?
When I went to pick Nathan up, I couldn't wait to see him. It was a near-perfect fall day, breezy and sunny, and I thought, This is one of those little moments in parenting that just feels so wonderfully rewarding. I pictured myself walking back to the car with him, hand in hand as I carried his backpack and listened to him chatter about his first day of school.
And then I found myself at the front of the line in the hallway again, and the teacher told me this:
We're still working on getting him to sit down and do his work, like we had trouble with in the summer at camp.
Umm, hello. We're in the big leagues now.
My eyes stung with tears. He isn't perfect! What I wanted to do was yell and scream and rake him across the coals right there in the parking lot, but I knew this was one of those moments when you need to tread lightly. I asked him some questions about school, told him I was proud of him, and then went into the speech about how you have to do things you don't like sometimes.
On the trip home he was completely beside himself. He was hungry! He was thirsty! He needed his blanket RIGHT NOW! I realized that he was completely overwhelmed. I imagined how hard it was for his irrational three-year-old brain to take in this situation where suddenly his mom was dropping him off in some new place where he was expected to conform to The System.
After he got some food and drink into him, I sat him down on my lap to have A Talk. More I'm proud of you. More I know preschool is scary. More for crying out loud please do your work when the teacher tells you to.
I had mentioned the preschool report in my Facebook status, and since that's what passes for marital communication these days, my husband called when he read my status. And then he and Nathan had another Talk.
And then it was quiet time and I did a lot of taking it personally. Have I not been harsh enough in his discipline? Did I pick the wrong preschool? Why was I so harsh to all the parents whose students I taught all these years? Was it because I had no sympathy for the parents of problem students that I was destined to become one?
I know, I know. Overthink much?
I could go on and on, but the bottom line is that this is a transition for us all. I guess I didn't realize what a Big Deal it was to start preschool. I feel like I did on every first day of school that I was a student or a teacher: I made it through the first day, but how can I do this again the next day?
I guess my spirits are a little bit crushed to have gotten a "bad" report on the first day, but ultimately I am glad the teacher was so communicative with me from the start, so we can hopefully nip this in the bud right off the bat. (Let me use a few more dumb sayings there.) And I think maybe she didn't sugar-coat it with me because I already know her from my running class at the gym. (Hey, let's bring up all my past failures!)
Plus, I need to remember that the point of school is to learn, not to demonstrate how perfect you are already.
And as much as I beat myself up as a parent today, I am giving myself credit for being a parent who takes education seriously.
It's been a tough day for us all.
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