Sorry it's been a while since I've posted. Kayla and I went on a trip to check out some colleges. It's funny how a mother can get accustomed to the idea that her child may go to school seven hours away, and it actually becomes okay. When they were little I swore I would never let them move that far away. But I guess it's what's best for your child, not what's easiest or best for you.
Jordan was excited about going to kindergarten. She made this very clear, by letting me know she "was ready and couldn't wait for school!". She kept asking how many days were left until she could go, and she drew her teacher a picture to bring on the first day. I was also informed by her, that she "wasn't shy".
This last statement, I'm assuming, was just as much for her benefit, as for mine. If she says it out loud, then it must be true.
I took this opportunity to explain to Jordan the importance of raising her hand if she knew an answer, or if something was on her mind. This way her teacher could get to know her and see how smart she was. I then informed her that when she got on the bus that first day, I would probably cry. I said I would be crying "in a good way". I didn't elaborate on this because honestly, even today, I'm not quite sure what I had meant.
Not surprisingly, I did cry, but nothing about it felt very "good".
I was so happy to see her get off the bus later that day, but she was totally fried. She told me the bus ride was too long and too loud. It took her about an hour and a half to settle down and begin to share her day with me. She said she liked school because she was line leader (one of the many benefits of having a last name begin with B) and she guessed what was in the surprise box. She asked me if I remembered my first day of kindergarten. (I could probably go on and on about this specific question, but I will spare you. What I will say is, for a five year old, this concept, having the ability and interest to wonder about my childhood experiences; I believe this thought process is pretty deep.)
When I think about this whole scenario today, I can't help but wonder if all the information I've read about parents and how they treat their first born, applied to me. Why would I tell her it was important that her teacher know she was smart? And why did I feel the need to share that I would cry when she got on the bus? These were my own worries, my own issues, not hers.
I may have spoken to her like she was an older child, and more mature than any five-year-old needs to be, but at least I didn't include my true feelings. I didn't mention I was excited for her, but I was also panicking on the inside. It didn't tell her how my whole life has been dedicated to our three kids, and her starting kindergarten forced me to think about my future, my life post-kids. Yes, in my brain, I was already picturing adorable two-year-old Kevin, leaving me forever. I didn't share all of these somewhat irrational fears with her. That's something, I guess.
After her second day of school she told me that she had wanted to see me again, and that she missed me. My heart just swelled. I really looked forward to seeing her too. I missed my big girl. A lot.