Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Preschool pain

So when I took K to preschool for the first time in September I wasn't sure who would suffer more.  Him or me. Turns out, me. Not that I'm too surprised by that fact. I was expecting to suffer more then he did, I just didn't expect his reaction.  AT ALL!

When we went to school that first day I was expecting tears.  I was expecting a little boy to clutch my leg and beg me not to go.  I was expecting to have to stay in the parking lot for the four hours he was there, just in case he needed me.  Boy was I wrong.  There were no tears.  There was no errant clutching of my leg and certainly no begging.  I didn't have to stay in the parking lot all morning wondering if he needed me.  I did however have to stay in the parking lot and wait until the tears flowing down my cheeks stopped.

I wasn't crying because I was said.  I wasn't crying because I'd left him the caring hands of Miss Rebekah.  I wasn't crying because K hadn't cried.  I was crying because I was relieved he was so secure being there.  I was crying because I knew he was safe.  I was crying because I had raised him secure enough in himself that he was ok in a strange environment.

Does that sound strange.  It shouldn't.  Ultimately I was crying because he didn't need me.  I felt utterly un-needed by my almost four year old boy that I couldn't help but cry.  I was so proud of him.  So proud that he was able to be in that room with kids his own age and learn.  My heart was singing his praise as I pulled out of that parking lot.

I rediscovered that feeling of pride and overwhelming sadness this week when I dropped him off at summer camp.  He was going to be there all day.  His first all day at being away from home.  I was scared stiff!  I had my cell phone on me the whole day and kept checking it, just to be sure if the school called I could get to him immediately!

But that call never came.  That call was never made.  K had a blast.  He had so much fun in fact... he didn't want to leave when I came to pick him up.  He started crying - no sobbing is the more accurate word - and yelling that he wanted to stay.  That he didn't want to go.  He curled up on the floor totally distraught.

I was thrilled that he had had such a good time.  I was tickled pink he hadn't needed me.  I was beyond excited to know that he could have such a wonderful time and not want to end that time.

I wasn't sure who hurt more on either of those days.  I know he wasn't traumatized by the experience, but I can't say the same for me.  I just hope when C starts preschool I'll be a little less traumatized.  But... I doubt it!

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