I'm grabbing at these days, these last days of summer. My sweet angel-baby John is going to go to pre-school in a couple of weeks. 5 DAYS A WEEK!!! I'm not ready. I don't want to just drop him off, leave him to someone else who won't love him the way I do. She won't listen to him the way I do, she won't notice every little thing he does and says.
John will be in the classroom 3 hours each day with 19 other children and two teachers. The teachers are wonderful. They are loving and knowledgeable, experienced and creative. They are kind and comforting and patient. John will (hopefully) thrive in his preschool. BUT HE'S MY BABY AND HE'LL BE AWAY FROM ME FOR 3 HOURS 5 DAYS A WEEK. He's probably ready. I'm not ready. He'll learn and play and explore and make new friends. He'll see and do things that I could never offer him. He'll have experiences and opportunities that I cannot give him. He'll probably love preschool and like going there each day. I want that for him.
But I'm going to miss him so much. Who will smile at him and watch the cool things he does? Will he say "Want to see this?"? And will anyone say back to him "Yes, John, show me."? When he does something great, or figures something out, or keeps trying not crying, who will acknowledge him? Who will meet his eyes across the room and smile? Who will notice him? If he gets hurt, or if his feelings get hurt, will he turn to someone or will he suffer silently? Will he swallow the urge to cry? His loving soccer ball (his lovey) won't be with him, and neither will I. Will he lose his sensitivity, his vulnerability? Will he become hardened, unfeeling? He's so sweet and little and tender. I don't want that to go away. I don't want to miss out on ANYTHING in John's life. My baby John is growing up and I don't want him to. I want him to stay 3, to stay home with me and play all day. I want to snuggle with him, wrestle with him, twirl and chase him. I want to push little John in the swing for hours, so high that his feet touch the cedar branches above.
I'm not ready for John to go to preschool. John's ready. He'll be okay. He'll be wonderful. I won't. I won't be okay. I'll have to hide my tears as I walk to the car and drive away. I'll have to keep reminding myself that he's where he's supposed to be, he's going to love his school and teacher and classmates. I'll have to spend our afternoons playing and snuggling and watching and listening and delighting in my John. I have to be smart about how I spend my time with my babies, because it is so fleeting.
