Monday, May 16, 2011


Yesterday I happened to glance at the kitchen calendar to check on something, and my eyes fell on the box for this Friday, where I had written, "G.'s last day of preschool." And my eyes immediately filled with tears. It's going to be a hard week.

If I could stop time and just never live this week, I would. I can't bear the thought of being done at our co-op nursery school, where my daughters have gone for four consecutive years, where I met almost all of my current dear fellow-mom friends, where I volunteered as the president of the board of directors for a year and lost much of my hair and some of my mind in the process (no reflection on the school itself, which I love with all my heart, but on the sheer amount of work involved and the fact that right after I started, the very sketchy and seriously morally challenged previous director quit on us right before the school year began, skipped out on contracted work, and took our money. Uh, yeah, I could do without those memories).

And do you remember how wrenching the final day of preschool was the last time I had a child finishing preschool? OMG, do you remember how on that last day, the teachers read storybooks about starting kindergarten to the children, including one titled Will I Have a Friend? Gah! I can't take it. CANNOT. TAKE. IT.

Strangely, even though Julia's last day of preschool was two years ago, it seems like that day just happened. I remember the entire day vividly. I remember the wise words her teacher and school director told me--the same sentiment she reminded me of last week, at the year-end parent meeting, when I hugged her and thanked her for these years--how milestones never stop occurring, and there is ALWAYS more good around the corner, during the next stage, and how your purpose as a parent is to be as present as possible during each phase so that when it ends, you can bid it goodbye not just with tears but also with satisfaction over a job well done, and with happy anticipation of all that's ahead.

That was two whole years ago, and in two years my entire world has changed. I don't relish the idea of saying goodbye to the comforting familiarity of this major sphere of my mothering life. I'm not sure I'm ready to move on. But I'm taking the school director's words, above, to heart, and trying to be positive, be strong, and believe. That's what being a mom is all about.


Mnmom said...

I had the most vivid dream last night; I was sorting through piles and piles of laundry I'd forgotten about. Mixed in were comforters, toys, books, etc from my girls' early years. I was crying horribly for those days, and also crying that I had somehow "lost" all these things in forgotten laundry, and how could a good mother do such a thing? I actually woke with a choked sob in my throat. It never ends.

Mom/Nonna said...

And I love that saying about how the most important things we can give our children are roots -- and wings! Genna is ready to fly! (At least to the next stage!)

Mary S. said...

Just got back from oldest daughter's college graduation. I was surprisingly dry-eyed, considering I'm usually a wimp about things like this. Endings are hard, but the more of them you get under your belt, the more ready for what's next your kids seem, the easier they are. Nonna is right -- roots and wings.

Rita said...

Well thankyouverymuch, now I'm crying.

Also? Until this moment, I'd never pondered the idea that someday I will no longer be delivering one of my children to our Mother's Day Out (Where *my* kids have attended for the last FIVE years, and will attend for another TWO).

Boy oh boy is THAT going to be a hard last day. Sheesh!