I’m terrified of preschool.
Well, more specifically, I’m terrified about the fact that the Little is going to preschool. This idea has been dismissed and laughed at from my wiser, less-ridiculous mom friends. You know, the ones who have like 3 kids and haven’t seen a preschool hall in years because they’re worried about real stuff, like how to police their child’s social media accounts without being suuuuuper obvious about it.
But I have one Little. And he’s kind of my favorite kid ever. And I just worry about these things.
I worry about fingerpainting. And whether or not he’ll make friends. And what to do about birthday party invitations (accept? reciprocate? WHAT ABOUT GOODY BAGS?)
For 3 years the only thing I’ve had to worry about is what I allowed others to see about my little family. I sought out my circle of moms and adopted grandmas–people I trust and listen to (most of the time)–who are good about knowing when to step in and when to let me Mom-Fail. Like that time I fed Little a bunch of mexican food and then thought driving in the car would be a good idea. Won’t be doing that again anytime soon.
So in a few weeks I’m sending Little into a classroom with other kids and a teacher who I’m sure will love him for all his quirks and laugh when he introduces himself with a handshake [he does that, you know]. In theory, I know I shouldn’t be worried. He’s bright, he’s adorable, and he says his “please and thank yous” in the appropriate context. There’s just this little part of my mommy-ness that feels like it’s on trial. It’s as if the world [according to Pinterest] is looking at me with it’s legions of judgy moms who can make cake pops and find time to read a book or seven every night with their kids before bed while simultaneously never yelling or resorting to cake for dinner because she’s just too tired to cook.
I read this great blog last night as I was scouring the vast ocean of the internet to find some digital pep talk to make me feel better. While we don’t have all the things on the list, we’re well on our way [because he’s not in Kindergarten, he’s 3. I have to remember that.] The point is that I realized that he’s going to be okay, and I’m going to be okay right along with him. Preschool will be great, and so will Kindergarten and all those things that come after that.
So here’s my pep talk to myself and maybe you need it, too. Keep it handy for those times Batman goes to preschool instead of your little boy or when the tantrum is so epic because “these pants is too bluuuuuuuue” that you’re late for school. Judging by my last 3 years of being a mom, I imagine I’m going to need to remind myself of this more than once:
There’s no one better to be his mom but you, that’s why God chose you. Your child has got the best of you and some of the parts of you that aren’t nearly as awesome but that’s alright. There’s this amazing thing called grace that covers all those mistakes you’ve made and going to make so stop worrying about it. Perfect moms do not exist so stop trying to be one. You got this.
Then grab a diet coke and a 100 calorie pack of oreos [because, who are we kidding? Those stretchmarks are some jerks], put your feet up, and try again tomorrow.
In the meantime, I’ll be over here pep talking myself all the way though the first few weeks of preschool.