And Off You Go....

Mama feels guilty over here.

It's been months since I've written anything here. Months.

So much has happened. We've moved across town....again. Ava turned one. That seems impossible. I have a whole blog post dedicated to that epic event (stitches and all) very soon.

For now, I have to write about whats bubbling to the surface as I sit in total panic and disbelief.

You, my sweet love, are headed to preschool in just one day.

And even as I read that sentence over and over, it still gives me chills. I can't really explain why it's so dramatic for me. If I dig deep, I think I could let some of it spill out. I've been trying not to let it spill out for a week now. Tonight, for once....it will be your mother, not you or your sippy cup tipping sister,who does the spilling.

This was you just yesterday:

No, I'm not kidding. This was just yesterday. . Just yesterday I was smelling your sweet little head covered in patches of rubbed off dark hair. I was rocking you back and forth in our glider and watching your tiny puff of hair blowing in the breeze we made on that rocker in your tiny bedroom. I remember wondering what your hair would end up looking like one day when you grew up.

And boy, do I know now.

Just look at you. This precious and perfect little girl you have become. I watch you grow up and I'm still so amazed at who you've become. It's happening. You are stepping into who you'll be in this world. And even though preschool is just a few days a week, for just a few hours, it's so much more to me. It's letting go. It's saying goodbye to "our world" we've created over the past 4 years.

It's goodbye to puffy diaper butts hitting the ground with a "thud" as you slurp your bottle straight from the fridge.

 It's goodbye to spontaneous apple picking in the nearly nude any day we choose at Grandpa's farm

 It's goodbye to tummy tickles to get you to laugh during our monthly photo sessions.

 It's goodbye to grass tickling your tiny toes as you experience nature during your first summer crawling.

 It's goodbye to playing with make up for the first time and letting mommy experiment her new photography skills.

 It's goodbye to random snow forts any time we choose.

 It's goodbye to messy stained faces where tiny fingers fumble to find your mouth.

 It's goodbye to miles of curly hair that fluff up nice and high after a bath.

 It's goodbye to nighttime puddle stomping, not caring how late it was because we can sleep in as late as we want the next day.

It's goodbye to my choice of hair accessory and outfit selection. It is you who wakes up and heads to your closet now.


I just don't know how I can express the overflow of feelings I have about this next step. Change isn't anything I've ever willingly turned toward ever in my life. I'm a clinger. In the worst way I want this for you. I know you are ready. I'm not. But you are.

There you are.  Ready to step out there and take it all in. I know this little nest I've created for you is getting crowded. You're ready for more than we've got going on here. Yo Gabba Gabba and finger paints aren't cutting it anymore. I see it in your eyes. The restless wanting for something you just don't even know is out there.

I get it.
I don't want to get it, but I get it.

We were watching "Finding Nemo" the other day and Nemo's dad asks the sea turtle how he knows that his little boy sea turtle is ready to be going to school and growing up.

The Sea Turtle simply says. "When they know, you'll know.....ya know?"

Remember how I started crying when the Sea Turtle said that to Marlin? Well, someday you'll get why. Leave to to Disney to continue to teach me life lessons at 32 years old.

And it hit me.

You know. But you don't know you know. And that's where my job as your mommy comes in. It's my job to know when you know, and try to guide you in the best way I know how.

So here we go. Letting my little baby go and steer her way into the very world I've tried to prepare and protect her from all at the same time. What a trip that has been, and will continue to be. Soon you'll be coming home with stories about class, and crafts to hang on our fridge. For the first time in four years someone else will be your teacher. That scares and relives me all at the same time.

How can I even begin to explain those two emotions existing in the same heart? It scares me because I've been in control of what influenced you and effected you for so long and I hate letting go of that privilege.

It relieves me because I know there are lessons out there that I just can't teach you. You have to learn them from others and on your own. That is just how life works. You are going to have your feelings hurt and I can't stop it. Some mean girl can try to take you down and I won't be right there to re direct you. I have to trust that over the years I've filled you with so much confidence and courage that you can handle these yucky things that happen in life. Your innocence was one of my most beloved parts about you. I cradled it and kept it safe. I nurtured it and marveled at it knowing that soon, it wouldn't be mine to guard anymore.

And here is where I see if my hard work paid off. If all of our late night talks about your sweet little soul and our out loud prayers to God about blessing us are going to pay off.

Here is where I have to let go, and that sucks.

And as much as I've begged you (and you know I'm serious here), you are still growing up. You are dreaming big dreams of making new friends and singing songs you've never heard. You are lining up your new colored pencils and organizing your snacks. You are choosing your first day of school outfit and telling me how you want your hair. You are explaining to Ava where you will be during her nap. You are cleaning out your desk drawers for your home work. You are ripping the tags off of your new back pack and adjusting the straps that are too big no matter what.

And I'm standing behind you choking back the heaves and sobs, pretending these red eyes are darn fall allergies.

But there is some sort of still peace inside me about all this too.

Because it's time.

And I know that. Doesn't mean I have to like it. But I know it. And something tells me that because you are my kid, you are going to be just fine.

And don't mind me and Ava hanging out in the parking lot watching movies in the car while you are in school.

I love you.
Stop growing up.