Griffin started pre-school this past week... only 3 days into it and he already has shown himself to be beyond ready for this next big step!
The hours leading up to the first day proved that maybe this momma's heart isn't so ready...
It's funny, when Hunter started pre-school, I never cried. I really didn't. He was confident and more than ready to start. So was I. His first day, we dropped him off, kissed good-bye, ran some errands, then picked him up. Bam. Hunter was in school. Our house and my emotions never skipped a beat.
This time around, Griffin is an entire year younger than when Hunter started... and probably 10x's more ready. Yeah. Multiply a kid completely ready for school by 10 and that's my youngest. He's amazing.
The night before his first day, the boys were in bed early just to give us a rested fresh start. I was looking forward to getting some housework done and working on Christmas cards.
We had baths. Read stories. Sang and prayed. Kissed and said goodnight. Doors closed and down the stairs I crept... didn't even make it to the bottom and I lost it. Uncontrollable sobbing. Messy, snotty sobbing. A wave of darkness and heaviness came over me and I was DONE! I grabbed my phone, the laptop and I went to bed. It wasn't even 6:30 pm. I laid there until 2 am. Writing. Crying. Reading. Crying. Looking at pictures. Crying. Watching video from when Griffin was a baby. (Extremely stupid idea by the way.) Crying.
What the crap? Why was I reacting this way? He wasn't crying. Griffin already had one foot out the door! He had been reminding me every 10 minutes throughout the day that I was NOT staying at school tomorrow and had I to leave! "K, mom? You can't stay!"
My sister called shortly after my insane emotional meltdown began, we joked about how I was going to handle Griffin going to school.
"Um, Teacher, there's a strange woman peeking in our window."
"Does anyone know who the lady is reading magazines on the bench outside the door?
She's been there all morning."
"I'm sorry miss, but the playground is reserved for the students. Is there someone we can call
to come get you?"
By the morning of the first day, there were no more tears to cry. I was too tired to remember I was distraught. It was all about our little guy, this much anticipated day, and being out of control excited for him!
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We followed him to his class, the entire time he held his teachers hand... turning every few steps giving us the death glare. Finally he said, "No, you can't come!" We convinced him to let us see his class, helped him hang his backpack, told him to smile for a picture (see above) ... he then quickly turned serious and very boldly said "Now leave!" So we did ;-)
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His first day was spectacular! He loved it, they loved him, it was warm fuzzies and high-fives all around.
By the second day while he was at school, I was walking into Wal-mart and a wave of panic returned. My mind began to race...
What in the heck have we done? How could we send our little guy to school by himself with complete strangers? He's not even 30 lbs and wears size 2T pants, am I crazy? He has a heart condition, what if something happens? Oh my gosh, what if he is mean to someone? Have we really taught him how to be kind... not just be nice to your brother kind of kind... but be kind to everyone no matter what. I wonder how he's doing on the big guy potty all by himself? I wonder if the teacher goes with him or do they just let them go by themselves? Oh crap, he's probably playing in the sink right now and noone knows it and there's going to be water everywhere. I hope he loves on the kids. I hope he doesn't hit. Oh man, he bit his brother last week, oh gosh, he's gonna bite somebody. I hope he's not saying butt too much. Or poop. Why do they always have to say poop in every sentence? What if he tells crazy inappropriate stories. I can't believe he told the teacher he puked at home and there was blood everywhere. What else is he going to say? Who puts a 3 1/2 year old on a bus? Am I nuts? What if he gets hungry? What if he has to pee? Oh man, what if he has to pee. We are going to send so many extra clothes to school this year, I just know it. Oh my sweet boy, he's so lovable. But did I show him enough how to treat people? Do I yell too much, is he going to yell at a kid if he does something wrong? What if someone bullies him? How do you tell a 3 1/2 year old not to let it bother them, just tell the teacher? How do you teach forgiveness at this age? What if he won't want to go back? What were we thinking? He's too little. He's too little. He's too little...
Have I done enough to prepare him for this? What if he isn't ready? Why am I so emotional and upset this time around? This is exactly what we've prayed about for so long. I've worked so hard to get find these amazing people to teach him... why am I so worried? Dang it, why am I crying so much!?
Although many people have came into our lives as teachers and therapists... we've always been right next to him. This support system has either came to our home or we've went to schools and hospitals... but we've always been there with him.
It's easy to talk about the future of your children... when it's the future you're talking about. But when the future becomes the now... It isn't so easy anymore.
I laid in bed that night, next to my guy, sobbing. I'm staring at this incredible God-designed child, with his long eye lashes and newly grown freckles. I'm flooded with the memories of them handing him to me in the hospital and noone wanted to look me in the eyes because they were afraid of how I'd react to my precious child being different. I'm remembering how I looked the doctor straight in the eye and asked if his syndrome was compatable with life... because I'd done way too much reading while I was pregnant and was filled with too much knowledge. I'll never forget how shocked he was I'd asked such a question in a 'give it to me straight, Doc' kind of way... but there was no time for skirting around the truth, I had a baby to get loving. "No! He is absolutely compatable with life!"... That's all I had to hear. My baby was going to live. Enough said. Nothing else mattered.
As I soaked Griffins pillow with my tears, these memories playing like a movie in my head... I'm in awe. His little hand with a thumb that had no motion when he was born and the doctor said "They can just take that off so it doesn't get in his way..." Yeah, that little thumb is still intact and is moving slowly but surely! Every obstacle that has been set before him, he's just been Griffin and overcome. Learning to crawl on his back after he had open heart surgery and tummy time wasn't as easy to him as other babies. Scoliosis and torticolis, yet confidently taking first steps at 18 months at church camp, in the same cabin that his daddy and I met and were engaged. Shocking the doctors as X-rays and CT's came back improved when they should have been worse. Learning to talk and gabbing away so much that people do a double take when you tell them he's completely deaf in his left ear. Hours and hours of physical therapy, occupational therapy, speech and language intervention, sleep studies, heart appointments, eye appointments, ENT appointments, plastic surgery appointments, hearing tests, dental exams, hand exams, spinal exams, evaluation after evaluation after evaluation...
Yeah. This, I told myself, is why it's so different this time. Although he is only 3 1/2 years old, he has been through a lot. Through every minute of it, we have been right next to him. Always. So in these moments when I'm handing over my baby to someone else... I'm handing over the reigns during those 3 hours 5 days a week... the reigns to moments that for the first time I won't be next to him.
Along with that, it's the peak of the crescendo, the build-up of all the triumphs, hardships and hard work we've been through with Griffin. All of it worth every minute because it was to prepare him for this very moment. The moment that was finally here.
That is why I cried. That is why I'm still crying.
In this journey together,
Jessica
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