I can remember when Aubrey was a baby and I would see "first day of school" pictures of other people's kids and sob (I'm super rational like that) because I knew that day would come too soon for me to bear. And... it did. It's here. It's freaking TOMORROW. If you knew how many tears I've cried about this day (The "K" world as I've called it the past few months), you'd probably bake me a cake.
I can't help but worry about so many things tomorrow. Did I prepare her enough? Did I teach her enough? What if she sits alone at lunch? What if she's still hungry after she eats her packed lunch? What if she gets lost somehow? What if she misses me? What if her teacher is like Ms. Trunchbull?! What if she comes home cursing like a sailor from words she heard on the playground?!
I always thought since I've been able to stay home for her first five years, I'd feel ready when this day came. I spent all the time I possibly could with her, so I could face this day with peace knowing I didn't miss a thing, right? Wrong! I don't think any amount of time could make me feel ready for this new stage. I'm just. not. ready.
But she is. She's so ready! And deep down, I know that's ALL that really matters.
Although I have so many mama-bear worries, there's also things I don't have to worry about. I don't have to worry about her not being kind, because she is a sweetheart. I don't have to worry about her not including others, because she is a friend to everyone. I don't have to worry about her being disrespectful to her teacher, because she is a good listener and rule follower. I don't even have to worry about her eating her treat before her sandwich, because I know she will remember I told her not to. She is such a good girl, & I know she will do amazing.
So now I wait for tomorrow morning. My game plan is to try my best to keep it together in front of her when it's time to say goodbye. I will have a big lump in my throat, but I will give her the biggest hug and kiss, tell her "remember who you are" and all that stuff moms are supposed to say and watch her walk away with her backpack the size of her whole body, literally walking away from this amazing, way too short stage of her life and onto the next. And it will be one of the most heartbreaking, bittersweet, yet proud moments of my time as a mom.
And then, because I'm me, will go bawl in the car. And call my mom and cry. And watch the clock all day like it's a ticking time bomb. And circle the school parking lot two hours before school ends like a stalker.