Preschool

There are two-way mirrors outside all the classrooms at C’s school. No matter what kind of hurry I’m in I stop at his mirror to watch him, really look at him for a moment, before heading out to the car. The stress of the morning rush doesn’t matter. If he was being a difficult jerk, if I was being a difficult jerk, it doesn’t matter. What matters is him, really seeing him. Loving him and knowing I will miss him during the day, even if we need a break from each other. It is one of the most reliable and best parts of my day.

He starts kindergarten in the fall. There are no two-way mirrors outside the classrooms. Parents aren’t even supposed to enter the building with their kids. Watching T or C play for a moment each morning has been a part of my life for five years. In that middle year, when they both were at preschool, I got the moment twice a day.

Over time it helped me come to terms with letting the boys go a little. Before they started at school they were mine, all day and every day. Of course they were never really mine. Raising a child is learning to slowly let go. Knowing that in my head doesn’t mean my heart understands. But watching the boys from a distance, seeing friendships develop, even watching on days when they made bad choices and the teachers gently intervened, reinforced day after day that they were growing up and away just like they were supposed to do.

Today is C’s last day of preschool, my last day at the two-way mirror. I watched as C played at the water table with two pals. He sucked up red water with a toy pipette and shot it into the big tub, mixing colors and creating new ones. My throat burned, I wasn’t able to swallow the tears. I watched him and loved him and cried. I did not want to walk away.

He is so excited about kindergarten that he doesn’t have room to be sad about leaving his school. I’m excited about his next adventure as well. I’m also sad enough for both of us.

It would be worse if I wasn’t sad. Moving on from the school is heartbreaking because it was such an extraordinary experience for our family. Who the boys have become is due, in large part, to the love and guidance they have received from the teachers at their school. Our family is better for our time there. I am lucky to be this sad.

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T’s first day in the Red Room, fall 2012
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C’s first day in the Blue Room, T’s first day in the Green Room. Fall 2013

t last day preschool

T’s last day of preschool. Spring 2014

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C’s first day in the Green Room. Fall 2014

c last day

C’s last day of preschool. Today.

 

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Friends. Hello.

The windows don’t rattle in their frames anymore. They were replaced with energy efficient models last November. But our house is an old lady, and she shook as the wind whooshed and hissed through the leafy trees. The harshness of winter wind, branches clacking together without leaves to dampen the noise, is behind us.

When I opened the back door to toss recycling into the bin, a gust bit my nose and the smell of wood smoke was in the air. It wasn’t June in the yard; it was October. I breathed in the chilly air and was filled with hope and excitement and joy.

In that breath I remembered the autumns of childhood. Summer stretched too long and hot. The welcome coolness of fall mixed with the smell of paper, erasers, and the sticky plastic of Trapper Keepers. School new enough to be exciting. The keen anticipation of Halloween, Thanksgiving, my birthday, and then Christmas stretched out in front of me.

Before the memories became weighted down with melancholy, the boys’ futures replaced my past. Hope and excitement and joy stayed with me. C starting kindergarten, T a second grader, planning their costumes for the Zoo Boo, their cousins and grandparents spending Thanksgiving with us, our trip to North Carolina the day after Christmas.

The cold snap will be over tomorrow, June will be back. But tonight it is October.

———————

Friends.

Hello.

How about that weather? Really chilly tonight, right?

Um. Is anyone actually still here?

If so, hi. I’m sorry. I am sorry. Fading away without a so long was rude as hell. I don’t even know what happened. Writers block? I was boring myself and pretty sure I was boring you? Mental illness and motherhood are pretty damn repetitive. The longer I didn’t write, the harder writing seemed? I was too busy living, the good: the boys flourish, I’m a PTO mom, hey, I actually did a marathon! The bad: my crazy…..has not been under control, I was overwhelmed by suicidal thoughts, paralyzed with fear, and that marathon? I accidently got lost (of course I did) and ended up doing an extra mile plus.

Good year. Hard year. How was yours?

Bottom line, I’m sorry if I left you hanging. And hey, I’ve discovered something pretty big this year. Happiness! It isn’t a constant state of being. Yup, I actually thought that. It was why I thought I couldn’t have it. You have probably figured all this out already, I am really slow. Happiness is simply a moment. Sometimes you get lots of moments in a day. Sometimes you don’t. But you don’t have to always be happy to be happy. Crazy people can have it, too! You can have it! I can have it! There is room for it, even during the bleakest days! 2015! The year I was suicidal AND happy! I know, I know, not funny. Totally tasteless. And I promise, I’m doing much better.

Maybe I’ll post in another year if I learn something cool in 2016.

PS. Hey, if you read here and you emailed me this year? I am sorry. I am a grade A dickweed. I was too ashamed to respond, I didn’t have an answer for why I wasn’t posting. I was being a coward. The emails were a kindness that touched me deeply, and they deserved a response. Again, I am sorry.

boys walk

The guys on a walk in early spring. Z made that guitar! And I know, the boys are so big!

c boo boo

“I have a booboo on my face, so I have to do this.”  He did not have a booboo.

t hat

We are trying a hat to keep the hair out of his big kid face.

k z date

Z and I went on a date in February! It was really awesome!