First Day

Last Wednesday was the Bean's first day of preschool. I've started and stopped this post several times because I get writer's block as soon as I type that first sentence. What do I say next? This milestone has me swirling in emotion - okay, more emotion. My thoughts jump from sadness at the passing of babyhood to gratitude for the crazy fabulous summer I've been able to share with both of my children, to disbelief at the swift movement of time, to the realization that this is just the first of many baby steps out of the nest, to intense pride that my little girl is ready for and excited about school. And all of these thoughts have the capability to pass within the span of three minutes' time and leave me crying and smiling all at once. Motherhood does indeed permanently open us up and leave us intensely vulnerable, as our hearts wander around outside ourselves through our children. It is a beautiful, frightening, wonderful thing.

The build-up to last Wednesday had been long. Not as long as the build-up to Little Mister's birth (thank goodness!), but long enough. The Bean has wanted to go to school for quite awhile. She's watched the kids there playing on the playground and confidently told us, "I want to go there some day!" She's also checked of many milestones in the getting there. Getting dressed? Check! Going to the potty? Check! Sharing? Mostly check! And as the actual start of school grew closer there were visits to the classroom, back-to-school shopping trips, and a whole host of play dates and field trips that let us squeeze out every last delicious bit of summer that we could.

Yet when the day came - it actually  came - I think we were all just a little bit in shock and definitely anxious. The night before, Bean could hardly stay in bed and on one of many trips  I took upstairs to help her get back to bed, we had this conversation: "Mommy, WHEN am I going to school?" "Tomorrow," I replied. "Oh...," her voice quiet. I realized that prior to that point, school was not yet real to her. The change coming was incomprehensible. It was an exciting idea the floated somewhere in the timeless world of the toddler mind. But the time had come, and it was real, and somehow we all still went to sleep that night.

In the morning, B and I put on our most enthusiastic faces and excitedly helped the Bean get ready. I had set out her clothes the night before and noticed that she had already made her own editorial adjustments to the outfit (note the socks). Bean was ready and excited. She left the house smiling and made a smooth transition into her classroom when B dropped her off.

Thus began one of the longer days of my life. I could not WAIT for my little girl to come home and tell me her stories. (I also prayed that it would all go OK and that she would want to go back again!) And I missed her....

And I made her dinner. And I waited for her to walk in the door. I felt like a kid at Christmas time, filled with anticipation about what she would tell. At 5:30 she and B walked in the door, both happy (phew!).

"How was your day?" I asked.
"I have decided that I'm not going to tell you and Little Mister about my day," she replied.

OH boy, I thought. So much for Christmas. During the course of the evening, I learned that lunch was "not too bad," and they sang "Wheels on the Bus," and that the Bean wanted to go back, even if only to rescue her precious buddy (a stuffed bunny named Paddy) who she no longer wanted to "live" at school. ("We need to talk about this as a family," she said.)

So there I had it. Right before my eyes, my little girl was defining her own world - making sense of and delineating an experience and place that belongs to her. From now on, she gets to choose how to spend her day and what her story will be. And when she gets over the fact that her world has been rocked (again) and school starts to feel normal, and her confidence grows, I cannot WAIT to hear all about it. Until then, I will have to be satisfied with the knowledge that school makes good lunch, the playground is "good," and the Bean seems to be excited to go back.