I had planned to get to work as soon as putting the kids to bed tonight. Instead, I am sitting here in a pool of tears at the thought of my first-born son going off to kindergarten Wednesday. We met his teacher today, and she seems really nice and well-organized. I had a pretty good feeling about his school, and I think he is really excited about it. I’ve so loved having him at home this summer since preschool let out, and I’ve sort of dreaded this moment in time. I thought I was handling everything like a big girl, until I popped in his preschool classroom today to say hi on my way to Hunter’s 3-year-old preschool orientation. Just the sight of his little preschool room turned me into a fountain of tears I didn’t know I had.
So now I sit here, Macbook on lap, ready to work, and I can’t stop the flow. I always wondered why in the world my mom cried the day I went to kindergarten. And the day I went to middle school, and high school, and college. They’re milestones! Milestones are supposed to be times to celebrate! But instead I feel so very sad. Ever since I started my mommy career I’ve sort of looked forward to getting my freedom back once school age hit. Even this last year I’ve found myself longing for just a good half day to myself. A whole week of days just seemed like a dream. But now that it’s really time, having an empty house is the last thing I want.
Raising young children is SO HARD. The days are long, the house stays messy, and we go ‘round and ‘round about simple things. At the end of the day I’m so pooped I don’t want to pick myself up off the couch. Every day of my mommy life I think about how much closer we are to school, and that much closer to a clean house, and that much closer to peace and quiet. And right now the thought of that coveted peace and quiet does nothing but make me sob. Why is it this way? Why so hard to make it through, but so hard to let it all go?
The one thing my heart takes comfort in is knowing that I have spent as much time as possible with my children while I had them under my wings. I chose to not work full-time, because I did not want to come to this day, August 11, 2008 and regret the time that would be forever lost with my son. I have sacrificed a lot of nice things to stay home with him. I’ve worked late into the night and early in the morning to help provide some extras. I’ve gone without manicures, eating out, and nice clothes. I seldom buy anything unnecessary, and I shop on a cash-in-hand shoestring budget. And every sacrifice has paled in comparison to the delight that has been raising my children in the comfort of my own home, where they have been free to learn and grow and roam around in pajamas until the afternoon if they wanted to.
I’ve made plenty of mistakes. I’ve been frustrated too easily, cleaned too little, emailed too often, and not played on the floor nearly enough. But I’ve done my best, and I’ve tried my hardest to show my children the joy of the Lord and the ways to honor Him. I’m glad I don’t have to have a score that beats any world records to know I’m doing my job as a mommy. I am the best mommy I can be, and the blessing of raising such precious children is all the gold medal I need.
I hope I can gather myself enough to work tonight. I’ve got some serious work to do to get the next phase of my career rolling. And I hope I can gather myself before I drop Will off first thing Wednesday morning. I think I better plan something to do Wednesday morning to keep from being too sad with just one little person to keep me company. I’m afraid if I don’t, I can probably expect some tears.
