Kindergarten

Dear Blake,

In just 10 short hours, you start kindergarten. It feels like we've been counting down to this day for so long and yet it has arrived way too fast.  I remember saying a few years ago, "I can't believe that in 2 years Blake will be going to Kindergarten!" and then in June saying, "In just two months Blake will be starting Kindergarten!"  And I remember so many people saying, "Before you know it he will be starting school!"  And here we are.  10 short hours away.  We've bought the school supplies, the brand new clothes (vs. consignment threads ;) ), the fancy new shoes and we've done the back to school hair cut!  We've talked about kindergarten and how fun it will be meeting new friends and learning new things.  You don't appear to be nervous, although you took extra long to fall asleep tonight!

I don't know how you will feel on your first day without me but I do know that when I leave you, you’ll occupy my thoughts for those three hours: what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, if you’re okay, if you’re making friends or feel left out, if you miss me and your sisters, if you're wondering what we're doing without you, if you're nervous to take bus home.  I will be so glad when you step off that bus!

Being a parent can be interesting, frightening, rewarding, and frustrating, and sometimes all those emotions tangled into one!  From early on in my pregnancy I felt that you were a boy, I just had a 'feeling' your Dad and I would be welcoming a son into this crazy world.  You have been such a blessing in our lives.  I often shake my head in wonderment and wipe the tears from my eyes as I witness your kind-hearted nature at play or your gentleness with your sisters and friends.  You are always very quick to please, which I pray will stay with you but that you will also learn to look out for yourself as well and somehow balance that giving, pleasing nature of yours.  

After your sister was born, I briefly returned to work.  But that return was with a heavy heart.  Somehow it just felt wrong and not the right choice for our family.  Your Dad felt it too and we agreed to test out the waters as a single income family.  I do not for one minute regret that choice.  We have spent so much time together, with your sisters and have made so many precious memories at home.  Like so many parents of our generation, we've tried to give you those “must-haves” the experts insisted on: Breastfeeding: Check. Lots of books: Check. Minimal TV: Check (although this has certainly increased over the years!). Early preschool: Check. (Mostly!)Healthy meals: Check. All of the above we have felt are important but most importantly and more then everything we have loved you unconditionally and this I hope you feel.

While we have given you advantages and can buy those school supplies and pack your snack, you will be without us in the classroom.  I fear we are helicopter parents and hope we have given you enough freedom and confidence to spread your wings, because the time has come.  You’ve always been a tad shy, cautious, watching and learning before jumping in. It’s a trait I think you and your Dad share and one that I feel can be very advantageous. I always say your sisters will give us a run for our money, while you will be helping us reel your sisters in.

I found this paragraph on one of the many mom-written blogs I peruse*, "Once I expressed my own hesitations about school to a teacher acquaintance. Her advice stuck with me: The hardest part of releasing you to elementary school — or any new experience — is realizing that I must give you up to the less-than-perfect world that awaits you."  This struck me and hit me hard.  I am so hesitant to release you to the less-than-perfect world and not because our family and our world is perfect but because I want to always be there to wipe your tears, hold your hand, cheer you on and always, always help you to feel important, loved and special.  Because in my world, you are the most important, most loved and most special boy walking this Earth.

Back to that perfect world.  The world will always be imperfect and I too have been an imperfect parent.  But I am always willing to learn, to admit to a mistake, to say sorry and to try harder next time.  And so I have to expect the school, the administration, your teachers, and your peers will also be less-than-perfect, just like me and the rest of the world.  But I can hope that they too will always be willing to learn, admit to a mistake, say sorry and try a little harder next time. I know you will feel frustrated at times, left out, sad, angry, and unimportant but I hope the rewarding, challenging, happy, and fulfilling times will outweigh those less-than-perfect days.

I can not wait until you can read and are able to read not only this letter but this entire blog.  I want you to always carry these thoughts with you: No matter where you go, what you do or what you become we will always be here for you and will always welcome you with open arms and an open mind, ready to listen, ready to help you with whatever it is you may need.  In this less-than-perfect world and with all our less-than-perfect ways, we have been given you and your two sisters, the three most perfect gifts we could have ever hoped for.

I know you will enjoy yourself this school year and I can not wait to hear about the fun you will have and to see you flourish!  I really look forward to watching you learn and grow and learning and growing with you.  Once I wipe these tears from my eyes, I will greet you with a smile tomorrow morning, and let you spread your wings ... just a little.  I love you my boy.

Love always and forever, to the moon and back,

Mom