Despite the mail strike, yesterday I received a letter that I guess I had been hoping wouldn't materialize. Like a an overdue bill, it's eventual arrival was inevitable. As the time ticked down to the end of the school year, the letter came just as I had half expected,and half hoped it wouldn't.
What was this dreaded piece of correspondence? It was my youngest daughter's junior kindergarten intake package. Even writing the words down now (the next day), I feel a pit in my stomach and tears beginning to well up. Though I was preparing for this, I didn't expect it to hit me so hard. She really is going to school. How did this happen? Three and a half years flew by and here I am, supposed to be ready to put her on the bus. I'm not.
So with the letter in hand, I walked over to the calendar in the pantry to make a note of her first day. And that's when I lost it. Luckily the typical hum of daily life in our house made it possible for me to slip out of the room unnoticed. I went to the powder room to have a moment to myself. Sitting on the toilet seat, I cried. A lot. And hard. When did my kids grow up? I'm pretty sure I was just pregnant with my youngest and caring for a 5-year-old who was just starting kindergarten herself.
After I felt more composed, I came out to see my oldest daughter and husband snuggled on the sofa together (my youngest was staying at my parents overnight - which wasn't working in my favour as I just wanted to hold her and hug her...but I digress). Before my eldest went off to bed, I told her how proud my husband and I are of her, and that we have a hard time figuring out where the time has gone, but we are so lucky to have two amazing girls. I had trouble speaking with the lump in my throat which only got my sensitive daughter going too (yes more tears). We hugged, and lingered in that moment (I wish I could remember to do that more)and most importantly, told each other how much we love each other, something that can get away from us as we move through the routines of daily life.
Maybe as the summer moves along, it will become easier for me to accept that both girls will be in school. I am already envisioning (read: dreading) standing among the other parents and completely losing it in a weeping heap of inconsolable emotion as I watch my daughter's little body takes those giant steps onto the bus, while I watch intently to make sure she finds a seat. "Hold it together" I'm telling myself, "keep it together long enough to wave". As the bus drives off, I can see my husband consoling me while I bury my face in his chest, hiding that horrible ugly crying face that no one outside your family and closest friends should ever have to see.
Having this little movie running through my mind three months before it actually happens is perhaps not helping. I'm hoping in some perverse way the torture is somehow therapeutic. Who knows? What I do know for certain is that I am going to remember to take the time to enjoy the coming months of summer frolicking with my two girls while they are still small. Deep breaths.....
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