Off to Preschool
Drying mom’s tears on the first day of school
I told myself I would make it to the parking lot before I cried. I didn’t make it that far. I broke down in the hallway and sniffled all the way through the lobby, past acquaintances who nodded with knowing smiles. I cried all the way home.
Our daughter had started preschool.
My husband and I spent the summer preparing Kaelyn for this new adventure. We went to orientation and an open house, filled out loads of paperwork, visited her classroom and met her kind teachers. We sat with her at the kitchen table as she carefully practiced writing the alphabet, spelling her name and drawing pictures.
In the weeks leading up to the big day, Kaelyn had lots of anxieties. “What if I have to go potty?” “What if my teacher forgets my name?” “What if you forget to pick me up?”
I had my own anxieties: “What if she walks in as a four-year-old and comes out three hours later with a folder full of college applications?”
The orientation a few days before school started calmed Kaelyn’s fears. She discovered her classmates are friendly, a bathroom is nearby and name tags are used for the first few weeks.
However, orientation did nothing to calm me. I was okay until the parents were asked to write a letter to their child stating something funny/loving/thoughtful. If a kid gets homesick at school, the teacher pulls out the personal message in an effort to make him or her feel better.
That’s when the waterworks set in. The thought of my daughter being sad and writing a letter to calm her made ME sad. I cried off and on through dinner time.
The first day of school arrived and Kaelyn woke up bright-eyed and eager. She got herself dressed, ate a good breakfast, put on her backpack and waited patiently for me to get her little brother ready.
My husband had to be at work early and couldn’t go to the school with us, so I told myself I had to be the strong one. “Don’t let her see you cry,” I told myself. “Wait until you get to the parking lot.” I figured she would be sad and clingy once we got to the school, and I was prepared to be strong for her sake.
Once again Kaelyn surprised me. She marched in the classroom, got her nametag, hung up her backpack, sat down at a table and began playing with blocks.
I lingered for a few minutes while the rest of the kids got situated. When it came time to say goodbye, she gave me a quick kiss and went back to her blocks.
Three hours later I picked up my 4-year-old – with no college applications – and she excitedly told me all about her adventure. “Can you believe I didn’t even get sad?” she asked.
Someday I’ll tell her that I didn’t quite make it to the parking lot before I cried.
Tisha Foley lives in Belton with her husband and two children.