We did it, my love. We did it! I squealed into Emerson’s last-day ponytail as she scrambled into my carpool-lined SUV for the final time this precious school year. She sat taller, shone brighter and breathed easier than she had only nine months prior—by a whole landslide, mind you. I know I still have a baby, but this span of 9 months barreling into the elementary years was nothing if not a rebirth. And I am not messing around with the WE. Tag-teaming, negotiating, peacemaking and so, so very much holding each other.
But here we are. Emmy, we did it!!!
Guys, I don’t know what my visions of Kinderbliss entailed, exactly. Oh, please! Of course I know! A Pottery Barn Kids backpack—monogrammed, naturally. The most adorable kid-chic wardrobe capsule ensembles—i.e., private school uniforms. Play dates, cupcakes, afterschool fun, and sweet mornings sending her off with nutritiously (and joyously!) packed lunches, assembled more like an array of healthy youth “appetizers,” as some of the experts suggest. We were armed. We were ready. I’d devoured the articles and screenshotted the snack inspo!
On that first day, I would wave slowly, one solitary, cinematic tear escaping an eye, and off my big girl would skip. Bye, sweet baby! Bye, gross diapers! Bye, unstructured days upon days! Farewell to the pain and preciousness of the preschool years. Ugh, I am such a graduate. The hard part is finally OVER!
You know where this is headed!
Needless to say, I think I was picturing more of a “launch” than a lurch, after lurch, after lurch, both of us staggering through the first few months like Ariel testing the unstable sand with those first shaky human legs of hers. You raise a toddler who seems to assure you she’s feisty, independent, ready to take on the world. Kind no matter what, compliant with outside authority, courageous and strong and unstoppable.
It’s quite possible (extremely likely) my expectations were set too high, but I was a little (a lot) blindsided. Fine, I was smacked right down to my proper place in the fetal position, where she left both of us in tears every morning for six entire weeks straight. It was such a gnarly transition for us! So many tears. So many prayers. So many sources consulted.
And so, I wanted to share some of my experience with you, in case someone out there needs past, or present, or even way-yonder-future solidarity in realizing that, huh. Kindergarten might be the first actual grade, but that doesn’t make it the easiest.
In no particular order, here are the top 10 lessons I took home from school this year. I am not a teacher or expert, of course! All I can share are my personal takeaways. Over the course of this year, my heart was stretched; my patience, challenged; my understanding of my daughter, forever expanded. Here goes nothing, my loves!
1. There may be tears—lots and lots of tears. This doesn’t mean your Kindergartner isn’t ready for school or that something is wrong with her.
Every single morning for six—yes, six—entire weeks of school, Emerson cried her pretty blue eyes out both at home when she left my arms, and again when Doug dropped her off. And we are not talking some light misting upon the eyeballs, my friends, but rather torrents and sobs. We always succeeded in getting her to the classroom in a somewhat calm state, but then in class, she often grew extremely anxious at different periods of the day, sometimes disrupting the class and regularly needing extra attention. I might add that while Emmy has always been very strong-willed, she has also been highly social and independent. We had talked about Kinder for months. I just didn’t see this coming.
There is so much I could say about this topic of Kinder Tears, but if it would be anything, I would say that every single teacher, book, expert, friend and resource I tapped said something along the same lines: That Emmy’s behavior was not shocking or entirely out of the ordinary. I can’t stress enough how much it felt truly shocking and entirely out of the ordinary. But, in fact, plenty of children just need a little more time adjusting. The tears really did just stop one day, at almost exactly six weeks, with a few *afterglow showers* until eight or nine. But, contrary to my Mama Bear panic mode, the tears did not mean we immediately had to hold her back (she’s a standard March birthday who started at 5) or switch schools or move to South Carolina. Rather, it meant that we had to lock down and get serious about our hands-on emotional care for Ems—and do a little homework on resources.
You know something else I learned through this? That I cried every single day of Kindergarten through most of fall 1989. My mom and my teacher decided that if I didn’t calm down by Thanksgiving, then, they would hold me back. (I was a young November birthday.) But do you know what I remember? Crying once. The first day. I was a little nervous; I remember missing my mom. But after that? All I recall from that day forward is adoring Mrs. Nielsen whom I’ll never forget, and the way she loved me and taught me. Memory. Kids. It’s some magic.
2. Your kiddo might need to chill after school far more than you would expect.
Let me tell you something about Kindergarten that nobody told little old me. There will be a WHOLE LOT of handouts, emails and calendar items! Not to mention whole days, like: Dr. Seuss Day, the 100th Day of School, Spirit Day, Sports Day, Water Day, Teacher Appreciation Day, Birthday. It’s more than you could ever imagine! At first, I thought the new deluge of information was only overwhelming to me because I also had a new baby. But, no. As I slowly confided to my new Kinder mom friends that, “Wow, guys, I am adjusting to all this! I feel like I’m bound to forget something!” They mirrored those gold words: “Me, too.”
And if we think we are adjusting, how about our sweet little buddies? They need so much grace in this huge transition time. Every kid is different, certainly, but all I know is that Ems came home from school so completely exhausted—especially in the first several months—that we cut out all extracurricular activities but ballet once a week and hardly even did play dates until Christmas came. She truly just needed to chill. Her little mind spent all day working and learning and absorbing in total overdrive. This might not apply to everyone. But, listen to your child and the small voice inside of you. Shut out any unneeded pressure to do and to be and to jam-pack your schedule. Give yourselves a break and a hug… and some really good afterschool snacks.
3. I can’t really stress the early bedtime enough!
Nothing revolutionary or deeply insightful to say here, other than that shooting for a 7:30 p.m. bedtime was super important to us this year. Sure, it often inched closer to 8 p.m. But our wiped-out girl needed her sleep. If she stayed up crazy late before a full day of Kindergarten, we’d all suffer the miserable consequences. This also gives Doug and me valuable time together. Plus, I always pack my kids’ lunches the night before, because mornings are just too cataclysmic otherwise!
4. Your precious, perfect, beautiful child might run into some friendship issues.
Among many things, I was not quite ready to hear about my daughter feuding mildly with one of her girlfriends. One of her super sweet, darling, incredible girlfriends, mind you! Whose mom I completely adore! Thankfully, this mom and I already had a solid friendship (i.e., I’m obsessed with her) by the time things got rocky in their relationship, so we checked in with each other constantly. But it was all a very important lesson to me in communicating with our daughter. And also in realizing that my precious, perfect, beautiful child is—gasp/sob—not actually perfect. Of course, she is my incredible girl who will always be perfect to me in spite of her imperfections. And yet, my precious daughter is learning. What kindness means. What we say and don’t say. How we say sorry, how we forgive. I lost count of the infinite talks we had about friendship and kindness this year. We grew. We learned. (And we made up with our beloved friend big time!)
5. Your Kindergarten teacher now likely sees your baby for at least as many waking hours as you do. Talk to her! A lot!
What can I even say about our Kindergarten teacher this year? The answer is: Nothing without sobbing my face off! Oh, sweet angel. To be honest, with all Emmy’s tears, I wonder how my girl might’ve fared in the hands of another educator. Our teacher cared and she cared so deeply. She dove into my daughter’s emotional upheaval and held both of our hands through it all. She assured me almost daily that Emmy would be OK. And at the end of the year, she said, “I’m so proud of our Emmy Lou.” She gave Ems her very own nickname! Swoontown! Since this was my first experience with an elementary school classroom, I can’t speak for all teachers. But what I do know is that teachers see our kiddos a lot. They observe things we can’t; they hear things we don’t. Ask for updates. Fill the teacher in on your kiddo’s temperament. Tell her anything helpful. This open line of communication felt to me like an actual lifeline, especially in those early months.
6. Talk to your pediatrician as well. She is (hopefully) a wealth of knowledge!
We were at the pediatrician frequently in the fall for all of Miss Reese’s check-ups. And, since Reese is the Flawless Baby of Wonders, you better believe I high-jacked those appointments to talk about my struggling Kindergartner! A mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do. OK, I’m sure most doctors would appreciate you making a real appointment if you really have something big to discuss. But our doctor lent me her caring ear and her brilliant mind regarding every single Kinder question I had. Should I be worried about all the crying? No. What if it keeps escalating and grows to become out of control? Come see me again immediately and we’ll discuss options. Occupational Therapy can be highly effective. Is there anything I really shouldn’t do? Don’t talk about it too much. Don’t harp on it or obsess; just love on her and let her process all this. Talking about her crying and the difficulty of the transition can actually be counterproductive. Is there anything I really SHOULD do? See #10.
7. Talk to the other parents. The right ones, the kind ones, the honest ones. This is my last “talking” tip, promise.
You know the relief and power in knowing you’re not alone? Spoiler Alert: This applies to Kinder Mama life. Find your people! Talk to them! Guaranteed you guys are sharing in the same exact brand of new hard and very good things.
8. If your child is having a VERY hard time, consider the possibility that your child is a Highly Sensitive one (HSC). I’m going to refrain from pulling out my full-on soap box on this quite yet. But I at least wanted to share with you that I am learning so much right now about the actual, technical definition of a Highly Sensitive Child, which Emerson officially is. While I have known since Day 1 that this firstborn, set-apart babe of ours possesses a will of cast iron, I learned only recently that she is also an HSC, as described in this brilliant book I’m devouring, along with 15-20% of the population. It is not a disorder or condition, but rather a descriptive category of humanity that’s changing my life. More to come, absolutely! But, if your child is incredibly sensitive to anything from the fabrics touching her skin and loud noises to every kind of transition, whether coming home from the park or, yes, going to Kindergarten; if she shows great empathy, uses big words and has very, very big feelings—she might also be “highly sensitive.” Take this quiz. Read this book. There are SO MANY ANSWERS and it’s revolutionizing our home. I only wish I had it back in September!
9. Remember that our kiddos often hold it together at school—but relax with us in their comfort zone.
My therapist friend, who also has a strong-willed daughter, told me this once. I never forgot it. We are our children’s safe place. They feel most at home with us because they are, in fact, home. They relax. They express themselves fully. They show us their whole, beautiful, weird little selves. They test our limits. They drive us bananas. All because they know they are loved and accepted. We send them out into the world from a place of security and attachment—as humans ready to meet other humans, form bonds, learn the ways of the world. Grow into well-adjusted adults. I wrote this on my Instagram a few weeks ago, and for me, it spoke all the volumes and sprung all the tears. Hurricane at home in her own safe harbor. Peaceful stillness when set out to sea.
10. Give your Kindergartner a token, prayer or poem to take with her to school until it is no longer needed.
At one of the appointments where I cornered my pediatrician for answers, she gave me the best suggestion. She said, “Give Emmy something of yours that she can put in her backpack—a piece of you. Old jewelry, a stone, a souvenir, anything. Something she can hold in her hands if she finds herself missing you. In addition, I recommend writing her a little poem, or prayer, that she can memorize snd hold in her heart all day. Something that tells her you love her so much. That God is with her. That her mom always comes back. That school is a wonderful thing.”
Well, DON’T THREATEN ME with a writing challenge! I always thought it was the most beautiful, enviable thing that my mom was a school psychologist and a preschool teacher but ended up a stay-at-home mom. How cool and cosmically perfect, that she got to use all of her schooling and work history in such a tangible way, every day of her life! This writing degree, though?! The thousands of projects?! Geesh. Ain’t none of my kids gonna benefit from Mama’s writing experience.
Or… Maybe I was wrong. Maybe our lights burst out sideways sometimes, illuminating our kids. Maybe our passions will keep on shining against our fears and predictions. I wrote this poem for Emerson. She memorized it. She loved it. She recited it every day. Her tears stopped a few weeks later. My pediatrician loved it so much that she urged me to “market it” or “get it out there” or at the very least, spread the word. So this is me doing that, I suppose! Steal the idea. Steal a few lines. Steal the whole thing! Emmy says it’s OK.
Emmy’s Back-to-School Poem
Jesus is my true best friend
He is with me till the end!
I miss my mom when she’s away
But when she’s gone, I get to play!
And my mom always comes back
And then I get a hug attack.
And I miss my daddy, too.
When he comes home, I say: “WooHoo!”
I love school, it is so fun!
School is fun for everyone!!!
Despite our tumultuous start, Emmy girl went on to thrive this year. Calmness, assuredness and excitement settled over her body and spirit. She is a reader and social butterfly, a lover of friends, art, Spanish, P.E., and pushing herself. Her 6th birthday party at Color-Me-Mine was a fantasy. We fell in love with her classmates and parents, and I have cried multiple times in the last week over the fact that we will disperse next year. Emmy’s whole countenance sparks to life when she talks about Mariners Christian School, to whom I’d gladly give both of my kidneys and every single one of my dollars. Even with the setbacks and sob fests, this was the year of my dreams. And, I suspect, Emerson’s, too.
No, I’ll never forget that first day, sending Emerson off to Kindergarten, crying tears of my own that felt at once more panicky than I had pictured and just as sweetly emotional as I’d imagined. I won’t forget that look of quiet fear that flashed on her face when we finally said good-bye. I won’t forget that primal, motherly gut punch of actually letting her go, of trusting deep in my heart that I’d done OK to this point. Neither will I forget the morning, after morning, after morning, of trying to finish nursing a baby while my firstborn, forever baby gripped my forearm in resistance and wailing. How helpless I felt, how anxious. Begging our doctor for input, cornering every mom I encountered who had a kid older than five. Someone can help me, right?!
Of course, this is where I learned, as I always do, that my greatest help comes from one source, the only one I can’t see. That there is power in humble prayer, that God sees every desperate mom’s tear about to drop into every not-so-joyously packed lunch. That every new day is new grace, that we tap into heavenly resources when we take the step to bend on our knees. I lifted my Ems to the heavens, and from there, over months, help arrived.
Because neither will I forget the morning, in May, when she exclaimed casually from the way-back seat that she was ready to be dropped off, “on the other side of the field,” where the big kids are dropped off daily. Until then, we had been pulling up to the front of the school where the TK kids and youngsters prefer.
I’m ready, Mom.
I’m ready.
I stopped my car. She bounded out the door. Her giant and sparkly JoJo bow bounced buoyantly on her beautiful head.
“Have a great day, Mom! I love you.”
She ran across the grass with the grace of a lioness and the confidence of a conqueror. Her tears had all dried a long time ago, crystallizing into her courage.
Courageous, and strong, and unstoppable.
A source I could feel, and now see.
We did it, Ems.
We did it!!!
