I'm a little embarrassed to admit I'm struggling with this transition to kindergarten. I mean, come on. My kid is not heading off to college. She's not getting married. She's in kindergarten, for pete's sake. Why am I so emotional?
As I've talked with a few older women in my life, though, I've been so encouraged by their responses to me. They've helped me see that this is really the first transition towards independence that the parent-child relationship experiences. The first of many transitions towards independence. The first goodbye of many future goodbyes.
It's a necessary transition. It's a good thing.
But it still hurts.
Up until now, we could structure our days (or not structure them) however we wanted. As a family, we had the flexibility to go and do without much restraining us. The days with her home were long and challenging, for SURE, (ahem,... let me not forget that!)
but now that it's behind me, I'm feeling the sadness of days I won't ever get back again.
My sweet friends reassured me this sadness is normal, that they'd be more concerned for me if I didn't feel like this.
(I know this is the point where all of my sweet homeschooling friends interject, "BUT!......." But I know that, for now, that's not what is best for my child, for our family, and for my mental sanity.)
So while she's enjoying a fast, motivated pace at school, I'm finding myself on the complete opposite of the spectrum this week.
Exhausted, mostly. This family hasn't seen so many consistent 6:30am's on the clock in YEARS!
(And a late night of RUF last night certainly doesn't make it easy to "get going" this morning....) I didn't cook a lick this week, thanks to friends who brought us a meal one night, and the fact that we had a ton of leftovers to eat, and I don't know that I could have if I had tried!)
How do you families DO it?
In yesterday's post I showed you the picture of Caroline's art teacher with alopecia. I am still in awe over how God orchestrated this incredible blessing. Well, this year, I'm volunteering to be the "art mom" and assist the class each Thursday morning. Yesterday was my first morning to do so, and it was so, SO good for my spirits.
It warmed my heart to able to watch her class giggle at the book the teacher was reading to them. To listen to the Latin commands and phonics chanting/signing they were using. To see with my own eyes how much she was engaged in the learning process and know that this was worth every penny. I met the kids in her class and wondered if any of them will be friends for life. I even stole a a few kisses from her (before it becomes too embarrassing to kiss mom in front of your class...).
As I walked her class down the hallway to art, she held my hand.
It meant alot to have her Mama there, too.
She's so excited. She's so involved and thriving. Oh my goodness, I'm SO happy for her.
Yet grieving for what was.
The tug and pull on a mama's heart as she watches her child grow.
I suppose this is what every major transition towards independence is like.
Naturally, it's not as hard on Marc, since it doesn't change his schedule all that much, (except he is the one to get up early and drive her to school) and she is still home when he comes home.
But it's my life, my days, that are far different now.
And her absence is making my heart grow that much fonder...