Ford, little man, I’m so in your dust.
Monday morning I overslept with just enough time to pack your lunch and shovel a bowl of food down your gullet, mostly against your will. It took me ten minutes just to find clean socks and another ten to find your shoes, tripping all the while over the mountains of camping laundry from the weekend, but in the nick of time we were out the door, and not looking back once at the red canoe still atop the car. I had a hard time focusing without the coffee I forgot to brew, wading through the muck of my anxieties, and keeping up with you. Down the sidewalk you skipped with your dad, as if already saying “seeyabye!” It just didn’t last long enough; I really wanted to hold onto the weekend, but Monday just slammed her big fat ass down in the drivers seat and I barely had time to grab the ‘oh shit!’ handles. And there we went.
Down the street.
We were a little early. You waited in the courtyard and watched little girls walk down the sidewalk, trailering Disney luggage on wheels. My eyes followed you as you measured every child that passed by. You asessed everything carefully, occasionally drawing attention but mostly appraising the morning as you bit your lip, squinted your eyes and surveyed the kinderscape.
We waited in the cafeteria for our orientation. You took a picture of me freaking out behind a plastic smile and I wondered how thankful you were to finally be free of my hysterics for 7 hours each day:
And, judging by your expression, I’d say you are pretty grateful!
After a brief Q&A in your homeroom, you kinderfolk rendezvoused to your new desks, and you were the first to start grabbing crayons and drawing on a piece of busywork coloring paper. The other kids mostly watched you start working, but within five minutes every child was eagerly coloring in the lines. We listening to a sappy book on saying goodbies on the first day of school, gross overkill with the best intentions from your sweet teacher, and as she read we watched you embellish your work.
Nice detail, Michaelangelo:
And despite the “Parent To Do List” that was written on the chalkboard, I was overcome with an uncontrolled bewilderment, a vacancy before me that I couldn’t ignore, and I had to put on shades in order to disguise my feelings, though I’m sure it only attracted sympathy from Damon, who managed to capture my first steps alone without you by my side, placing all my hopes in a basket before the teacher: that your spirit remain unbroken; that you never consider coloring as anything but busywork and fine motor practice; that you never stop asking questions; that your confidence doesn’t diminish; that you never stop trying; that you keep having fun; that you know life is school and the classroom is just structure, a place to bouce off ideas, not simply adopt them.
That’s it, roll those big brown eyes. Just don’t forget I’m crazy about you. CrAZY!!!
Love,
Mama
you better have been tearing up while writing this, cuz you’ve got me going
oh that last shot captures it all— and your “about” with the tears on the cutting board– the good thing is you’re not in this alone and the hubster’s uber-cool can anchor your anxiety– unless of course, he’s every bit as unnerved under those shades . . . I loved your summation/philosophy putting school in perspective of life– Ford is going to flourish! no worries, mate
Ack! Although I’m crazy ready for my big guy to go to school next year, I’m also crazy not-ready. Ack! This parenting business is hard.
P.S. Your husband looks much like mine.
P.P.S. Yes, we’re always looking for friends, too.
I loved this Steph. That first day of kindegarten is such a huge rite of passage. I had to wear my shades to mask the tears pouring from my eyes. Allergies and all. I’m feeling incredibly wistful as my last full week with my girl winds down. First grade in a week. A full day of school, no morning and lunchtime plans to work out, 7 hours a day on her own. Sigh.
The photos rule, especially the one of your boy surveying the schoolyard. xoxo
Steph, I love your “basket” for the teacher…beautifully written. You have given him those important first years and nurtured him to be…Ford…he is all that name implies…
that is such a beautiful post Steph. and I love, love, love that last photo. so eloquent. so full of love.
oh the emotions that come up from reading your words…sigh. it’s such a tough time, sadly it’s just the begining of the many, many times we will have to feel this way, as we slowly let our little babies grow and become even more of who they are. i feel for you. 😉 your little guy is such a cutie!
Oh, Steph! I got it – that first day of school feeling – with that picture of Ford with his daddy. The wonder, the magic of it – I always LOVED school and I hope that Ford will, too. Your line about how life is school and the classroom is just structure – amazing. What a fabulous letter.
As the registrar at a jr high, I consider it a high privilege to be the first point of contact for most new families at our school. Every step along the school ladder is so huge to both the students and their families, and it’s such a gift to be of service to them as they take a step along that path. I share that only to say this: I truly love this post…and for the reminder it gives me to stay aware in the most overworked, harried moments of what it feels like to be on the other side of it.
what a perfectly perfect letter. you write the swirling first-day-of-school energy just like it feels inside my own head. and the part about placing your hopes in the basket – thank you.
I can’t stop getting chills. Look, I still have them even after scrolling down through all the comments.
Oh dear. This took me straight back to that day in our lives. So hard to act ‘cool’ and not upset the little ‘seeyabye’ man. You did beautifully and now you will always have your eloquently expressed words to look back on the day. 🙂
This one made me cry. I should print it out and put it on my builletin at school. I know every parent feels this way–and sometimes it is too much hugeness, all that vast love to hold. I do my best every day, to ignite a love for learning in every single kid. But man, each year it becomes more real to me as a mama….this job I have is high stakes.
Hugs to you and congrats to Ford on his first day!
Steph,
Ive been so busy that I have a lot to catch up on with your blogs. Reading this made me weep because of the maternal connection to your words and the absence of connecting to your words for the past couple of months.
Hope to see you in November! Jenn
Amazing post.
I guess you will read my diary..
Sayonara