Leading up to the first day of school, a lot of people asked me if I was going to cry when my daughter, who made her kindergarten debut last week, got on the bus.
I’m not a terribly emotional person, but I have been known to shed a tear at sappy pre-k graduation ceremonies, and even when I get too wrapped up in thinking about my children growing older, which happens at warp speed once they enter school, but then practically moves in reverse during the summer months.
But, I didn’t feel sad that morning. My daughter was happy to get on the bus and she’s been happy everyday since. It’s awesome. Everyday is like a new adventure for her. “Mom, I went to the library!” “Mom, we played dodge ball, today. I won. I was the only one who knew how to play. I don’t think even the teacher knew how to play!” (I have spoken about her
narcism confidence, before). She approaches life, like everyone should, with enthusiasm.
So, I haven’t felt lonely, melancholy, or any other word that indicates sadness. In fact, I have felt downright happy, if not a little giddy, to not be endlessly attending to three little people at every minute of the day, a la an indentured servant. Which if you stay at home, and aren’t one of those abnormally cheery people, is exactly how you start to feel, after a while.
Don’t get me wrong, I feel blessed to be a stay at home mom. For me, it was the only choice. But, really, it’s nice to have a break. In fact, I think it’s actually making me a better mother. Last night, to my surprise, when one of my children was breaking down, unwilling to step into the bath because he had a big cut on his toe, but not willing to forgo the bath, instead of freaking out, I actually talked him down. And you know why I could do this? Because I hadn’t been doing it all day long.
School is wonderful.