Somehow, in the blink of an eye, my Mimi is registered for kindergarten.
I won’t lie: part of me is jumping up and down with joy over the idea of NO MORE DAY CARE PAYMENTS. Seriously. Sorry for the all caps, but trust me, they’re sooooo necessary here.
We’ve been writing those nausea-inducing checks for more than nine years now, thanks to the nearly five year age difference between Buddy and Mimi. I told Dr. G. we may need to crack open a fancy bottle of bubbly once we write that last check in August.
(Although it’s not like we’ll off the hook entirely, thanks to our town’s tuition-based full-time kindergarten program…and afterschool care…and summer camp. OK, so maybe it’ll have to be a cheap bottle of champagne. Or some Boone’s.)
But the emotional mom side of me is in a bit of a state of shock that this little girl––my last baby, the child who still calls me Mama, the infant I can still remember nuzzling and nursing –– is somehow old enough for kindergarten in the fall.
And here’s the thing. Whether it’s because she’s been in full-time daycare since she was an infant, or because she has an older brother, or because she is a strong, independent child, this girl is so ready for kindergarten. She is raring to leave her babyhood behind and be a big girl.
Which is why I feel sort of silly because all my angst and all these confusing, bittersweet emotions are all about me. I have zero doubt about how she’ll do at school. I know she’ll be fine. In fact, she’ll be more than fine. She’ll be awesome.
Yet I still can’t reconcile that this phase of early childhood––the phase tied to her babyhood––is ending.
But then again, as I remind myself, with new phases come new adventures and new experiences.
And that’s when I stop and remember the transformation Buddy underwent when he set off to kindergarten four years ago.
Sure, it was really strange not knowing what he was doing for seven hours each day, and it was totally surreal watching him climb aboard that school bus each morning as he was whisked away to a world I wasn’t a part of anymore.
But we would have the most interesting conversations when he came home from school, about something new he learned or a new friend he made or a new game they played at recess. He grew up so much that year, and, honestly, it was a joy and a privilege to watch.
And I guess that’s my reality check. Because even though I’m dealing with my own flurry of emotions, I am so excited for Mimi to experience these same milestones. To hear her chattering excitedly about all she is doing and learning at school, to hear the slow stumble of the first words as she learns to read, to see her grow before my own eyes.
But until that day in late August, when I put her on the bus for the first time, I will enjoy having my baby just a little bit longer.
Rachel says
I am on my local school board and was participating in a tri-district work session last night. It was with a somewhat dazed tone that I replied “Not yet, but we’re only a year away from pre-school.” Time really does fly!
Rachel says
Clearly still dazed – I meant to say “Someone asked if I had kids in the district and it was with a somewhat. . . “