You know when you think about/plan for/worry about something for so long that the thinking/planning/worrying becomes a Part Of Your Life, and then, the Something happens so you no longer need to think about/plan for/worry about it anymore? So you find yourself on the other side of the Something with all this free time on your hands? It's like your wedding day. After months of planning, it's over in a day and you find yourself sitting on a beach on your honeymoon with your newly-wedded husband with nothing to think about/plan for/worry about, and you can't imagine life getting any better.
That was me this morning.
Except, instead of sitting on a beach on my honeymoon, I was wandering around a nearly-deserted mall 40 minutes before any of the stores opened. And, although I was with a really, really, ridiculously good-looking guy, it was Max, not Sam. And instead of being blissfully happy, I was crying.
But all in all, Preschool Drop-off went GREAT!
And now I'll never have to think about/plan for/worry about dropping Evan off for his Very First Day of Preschool ever again. What WILL I do with my time?
Evan was full of nervous chatter all the way to school today. This stopped abruptly when we arrived at the school and made our way to the front doors. We were a few minutes early so we waited outside with the rest of the kids and mommies. Most of the kids were pretty quiet, like Evan. There was one girl, though, who looked to be in the 2s class, and announced to the crowd that she already ate her apple that she had packed for snack. Evan looked at me as if to say, "OMG, Mom, did you HEAR that?!" SOMEBODY wasn't following directions this morning.
When it was time, we walked down the hall to his classroom. I bent down to give hugs and kisses goodbye, but by this time, Evan was wise to what was really about to happen. He got wacky a bit when his teacher greeted us at the door. She said, "Evan, I hear you got a boo-boo on your knee!" I smiled a Big Cheery Smile and said, in my best sing-song voice, "We're not really talking about it!" And she smiled an Even Bigger Cheerier Smile and said in a sing-song voice that only a preschool teacher can pull off, "Oh! Of course not! I love those trucks on your school bag, Evan!"
Evan leaned over to give Max a kiss and said, "Oh, no! I see monkeys in those ears, little baby!"
So I take that as my cue to leave. Mrs. G positions herself between Evan and me and shuffles him into the classroom.
And that was it.
For three years I have thought about That Moment. And there it was. And the world continued to spin and life, as we know it, continued on as per usual.
So. I took Max back to the van, buckled him into his seat, and burst into tears. Yup. I was that mom. I watched as the other moms exited the building laughing and chatting with one another. Some were more solemn, and I'd like to think there were watery eyes behind those Jackie O sunglasses, but I felt pretty alone in my lack of self-control.
BUT HE'S MY BABY. WHO COULD BLAME ME?
So Max and I drove to the mall looking for skinny jeans. Only the mall wasn't open yet and I couldn't find any skinny jeans even when it did open and can I really pull that look off anyway? I've got toothpicks for legs and no butt.
Somehow, the time passed and the day was done. Time for me to pick up my big boy. I arrived just as his teacher was leading his class to the front hallway to await pick up. I saw him, Walking In Line. Just like a real student. He was carrying his tote bag and listening to the teacher give the class directions. He saw me and froze just a little, as if to say, "Oh, yeah! I remember you!" and I just melted. His teacher called his name to meet him mommy at the door and I had to restrain myself from running to him and scooping him up. We got out of the building and I couldn't resist, "Baby! I'm so happy to see you! Give me a kiss!"
He held up his hand.
"You can kiss my hand."
"What? You've only been in preschool for two hours and already you're too grown up to kiss your mommy?!"
"I'll give you a kiss in the car."
Over the course of the afternoon and evening, I found out quite a few details about his day. He was, according to his teacher's note, slow to get started and a little unsure at first. (No surprise there.) He was also "teary" at rest time because he didn't want to rest. (I don't blame him. It wasn't even 11am! And there were toys to be played with!) But all in all, it was a good day.
And from his mouth directly:
"I found the yellow phone, but not the red one. I just can't figure out where the red one went. Maybe it's getting fixed at the phone store."
"Lydia got to be the weather man. I mean....the weather lady."
"I played with the front-loader on the playground. You're allowed to dump the sand here and here [gesturing], but not there."
"You can go to the rice table but only if it's three kids. I went and it was only all boys. And only one kid can be at music. It can be boys or girls."
"Two boys went to painting but I don't know who. I can't remember ALL the kids' names."
"Sometimes some kids will say, 'No you can't play with this,' but then you'll make friends again." (I asked if he learned about this when his teacher was talking about friends at circle time and he promptly fell asleep.)
I asked him what he ate for snack, "I didn't eat anything." Why not? "Because I told my teachers that we have snacks at my house." And did you drink water? "No, because I told my teachers we have water at our house already."
"I didn't go to the reading corner because it was time for me to go home. Next time I go to school I want to go to the reading corner."
He wants to go back! And I want him to, too. I can tell, by the number of stories he told me about his day, and the details that he's able to remember, that he's ready for this new adventure. It's good for him. And I'll get used to it.