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Dear Luke,
Tomorrow you start kindergarten. Lunch has been packed, clothes are laid out, "jitter glitter" has been sprinkled under your pillow. Tomorrow you will finally be a big, bad kindergartener. At least that's what everyone will tell you. We'll all say how grown up you are and how great you're going to do and we'll wish you all the best. Everyone will be giving big smiles and big thumbs up. It'll feel like a party...a celebration...a major milestone!
But that may not match how you feel on the inside, and I want you to know that that is totally okay. For sure you'll feel some excitement. But you may also feel nervous and scared. You might worry about potty trips or mean kids or whether you'll be able to finish lunch in time (sorry...that one may be my fault for constantly telling you that you will never finish lunch at school if you eat at your normal pace.)
All of those feelings are completely normal. And do you want to know a secret? It's exactly how Mommy feels too. I will put on a brave face in front of you, but truthfully I am nervous, scared, and worried for you and your sister. What if you feel all alone? What if someone hurts your feelings? What if you learn words or ideals I'm not ready for you to know about? What if you get embarrassed or lost or overwhelmed? Just typing those things brings tears to my eyes because the truth is that I know you will experience all of that and more at one point or another. It's life, Bubba. I cannot always protect you and Audrey from it. And just the knowledge of that is enough to suck the air out of my lungs.
But here's my other secret: Jesus. He and I have already had a lot (I mean a LOT) of conversations about this new chapter. And He has promised me that He will not leave you. He keeps trying to remind me that He loves you more than I do. Isn't that a crazy thought?! But it's the Truth. And if Jesus loves you more than I do, than that must be a million billion trillion GAJILLION percent. He is going to be right there when you're scared, worried, or lonely and He will not take His eyes off of you. He has every hair on your adorable blonde head numbered. Tomorrow morning my grip on you may have to loosen a little, but His never will.
You have a heart of gold, Luke. You are smart, you are hilarious, and you are generous to a fault. You are true and loyal to those lucky enough to call you friend and you are sensitive to others in a way that most grown-ups will never be. You know how to make any situation fun and those dimples can melt the coldest of hearts. But more than ALL of that, you are a child of God. And He's got you in His capable hands.
So remember that. And then remember what we always tell you: bravery doesn't mean not feeling scared. Bravery is feeling scared and then doing the hard thing anyway. I will be praying and cheering you on the whole way. I may not be there with you, but I will be here waiting. To comfort you on the hard days, to celebrate with you on the good ones, and to guide you in the uncertain stuff. After all, I am your biggest fan. No matter what. Every time. Always.
You and Audrey are the lights of my life, Lukey. Now go shine bright.
Love,
Mommy
xoxoxo
It's hard for me to believe, but in less than a week Luke will be starting kindergarten. Like my heartbeat when I write that, I have started and stopped this blog post several times because I'm not quite sure how to articulate my feelings about this milestone.
(If you missed my many, MANY words on this situation when we first went through it with Audrey, here the links to my three-part blog series: Kindergarten, Part I , Kindergarten, Part II, Kindergarten, Part III: A Letter to My Daughter. Lawdy did I have some thoughts.)
Some of those emotions are the same. I am anxious and worried about him, just as I was with her. I have a better idea of what to expect this time around, but he is a different kid in a different class with a different teacher. Add to that that he is my baby. He still says things like "putend" (pretend) and "disdusting" (disgusting). Audrey seemed so much bigger and older to us because Luke was just two years old when she started. Now that I don't have a younger one around for comparison, I realize just how itty bitty a five year old is.
Though the worry is similar, there is a deeper level of heartache this go-round. It's also a little more self-centered this time. What has been my job for the past 8+ years is about to change. Drastically. I feel it the most every time someone asks "What are you going to do with all that time on your hands?!" I usually offer a half-hearted chuckle and mutter a joke about taking a nap before changing the subject. But as we move on, the validity of their question lingers.
I am clear on one thing: I am not interested in going back to work yet, even part time. (Nor am I interested in selling anything, so please don't ask.) After some quick math, I calculated that there are approximately 81 weekdays that the kids are out of school each year. That is 22 percent of the year. Not to mention any sick days or the three hours each afternoon when they are dismissed before usual office hours are over. Unless I found a job inside the same school system, I would have to work some or all of that time, which I definitely do not want to do. (Obviously it is not lost on me that this is a very special position to be in, and I am incredibly grateful to even have the choice.)
Of course I know what I'll do with a big bulk of my time. I'll be at the school with them pulling double room mom duty for their classes, being a classroom volunteer (different thing) for both their classes, and filling my new PTA Board position as Community Outreach Co-Chair. I will continue to support their teachers and love on their peers in big and small ways. There is always, always something that needs doing up there and I can stay as busy as I want to be.
And there will always be something else going on, too. In addition to the two PTA meetings I have the first week, there is also a consignment sale to finish pricing for and dropping-off and we're hosting a cookout/baby "sprinkle" that first weekend. To say nothing of the Timber Trek work that I am behind on. And that's just during their first week!
There will be special PTA events, personal races, holidays, and small group/church responsibilities that will all vie for my attention. We will host showers and gatherings that will also keep me busy. Plus our nearly twenty year old house is constantly needing something done, including an upcoming project we may be about to start that involves a sledgehammer. FUN!
But. BUT. I'd be lying if I didn't confess that there is another feeling at play here. I can't quite put a label on it, but the closest thing I can come up with is "obsolete." As in, run out of use. Unnecessary. Now I know that is a lie. Of course my kids will still need me very much. But it doesn't change the fact that I am feeling a bit of that right now. As I shared with a girlfriend this week, unless you are a stay at home parent who is going to continue being a stay at home parent, I don't think you can fully grasp the shift and the sadness. Does it mean I'd go back and do things differently to avoid it? Not a chance.
The truth is, I don't yet know exactly how things are going to look. If there is one lesson parenting has taught me, it's not to make sweeping statements about how things are going to be in a certain stage before I am actually in that stage. As the old joke goes: I was a perfect parent until I had kids!
I do know that I'll have to put some guards in place. Just because I will be more available doesn't mean I have to say yes to every opportunity or need that comes up. People will undoubtedly make assumptions about my availability and may get disappointed or judgmental when I turn them down. But let me go ahead and make it clear now: I will turn stuff down. Being involved in their school will be the big majority of my "job", but it cannot be everything for a number of reasons, namely both my sanity and David's. I'm determined to work hard to keep discerning my "best yes" and manage my calendar, including being fiercely protective of our family time.
I also know that I am not going to allow myself to be sucked into a new level of perfectionism or performance. Just because I may have the time to needlepoint 24 stockings for a class Christmas party does not mean I will (...or should. Seriously. I can barely sew on a button.) Rest assured that this mama will still be bringing store-bought treats and phoning it in on occasion, just like people with outside jobs do from time to time with their work responsibilities.
So there are some things I am sure of: I'm not going back to work and I don't have to say yes to or be perfect at every volunteer role that comes across my lap. But there is still an awful lot of unknown ahead of me. I'm trying to reframe my thinking to look at it as possibility. Maybe I'll start leading women's Bible Study again. Maybe I'll take on a few pro-bono babysitting gigs for nearby mamas with little ones. Maybe I'll exercise at some hour other than 5:30am. Maybe I'll finally finish Luke's baby book or not wait until the witching hour to cook dinner every day or be able to clean my house all at once without being interrupted. (I will desperately miss having them nearby while I'm doing some things...most things...but cleaning and grocery shopping are NOT on that list.)
Yes, things are about to change drastically for both me and Luke. He will undoubtedly handle it like a champ. I will probably fumble a little more and change my direction a few times, but we'll both eventually figure it out. I've had a very clear-cut purpose and routine for 8+ years. It's okay if it takes me a minute to write this next chapter. And it's okay if I have some heartache as I do. Like I tell the kids: If you're sad it's over, that's a sign that you had a great time. These last eight years have been a lot of things: hard, imperfect, exhausting, etc. But oh my have they also been wonderful. So sweet and so full and so very, very worth it. Here's to the next phase...and maybe a short congratulatory nap, too.
July 2013
