The Big K

Here we are. The day before Kindergarten. Holy freaking crap, Kindergarten. My 7 pound, 1 ounce baby is going to Kindergarten tomorrow. In the hubbub of school preparations, I haven't had time to think overanalyze just how I feel about this until I sat down to type this post. And tear No. 1 just rolled down my cheek.

Raise your hand if you remember your first day of kindergarten. I do. I remember the pictures of apples all over the room (so many apples). I remember how Mrs. Stratman didn't call on me during circle time and how devastated I was that she picked a girl named Amy instead. And as I'm remembering things, I'm remembering how I didn't look back, even once, for my mom.

At 8:30 a.m. on August 31, Faith won't look back either. And I'll realize just how my mom felt sending me into that enormous school all alone all those years ago. Oh how I wish 32-year-old me could hug my 36-year-old mother that day. She survived and so will I, but it probably won't be pretty. Scratch that, it's definitely gonna get ugly.

My tough-girl self wants to slap my sappy self for even getting emotional about this. It's school, not the military, and she's five, not 18. I'm still going to cut her meat for dinner when she gets home and wash her hair in the bathtub because she still refuses to take showers. But tough-girl knows something will change when her firstborn daughter is inside those doors. Mom won't be there to encourage, explain, translate, cheer, clap, laugh or cry. It will just be her. Left to fend and friend for herself. Today it's kindergarten, tomorrow she's driving.

She's been asking about this day for MONTHS. Now that it's finally here, she told me she's "nervous." Nervous? I questioned her incredulously. She confessed she's worried about "making friends." I told her to look at me. When her Daddy's shade of green eyes finally locked on mine, I told her as straight faced as I could: "You will make a great friend to anyone who wants to be one to you, Faith." I hope she believes it. Because it's true.

She survived her shots. When the doctor finished the exam, she told her "I think you're forgetting something! The finger prick?" We all got a good chuckle out of it. She (and the nurse) screamed during the shots.
Two scoops for two shots. We both had stomach aches later!

I'm sobbing while writing this, but it's possible I'll be fine tomorrow? After all, I didn't even get a little misty at Kindergarten Round-Up or anytime anyone asked about the big day. So maybe I got a lump in my throat when I read "12- No. 2 pencils" on her school supply list, and when I learned her teacher's name for the first time, and when I saw her cubby on Back-to-School night, but there's hope right?! 

Oh forget it. I should have saved two of the four boxes of tissues for the classroom for myself and the other moms on the first day. That's right, Dad won't be there. His first day of school is also tomorrow, but sadly he's getting a Tupperware container of leftovers and a swift kick kiss out the door in the morning. With him not present, I'm liable to linger, break down in front of Mrs. Pearce's entire Kindergarten class (my baaaabyyyy) and possibly be politely escorted from the school grounds by a wannabe police officer.

Her Hello Kitty backpack is by the door. Her new school clothes laid out in a pile by her dresser. Her Frozen alarm clock set to wake her up to "Let It Go." This is real. This is happening. Kindergarten, here we come.

Back-to-School Night. Is there anything better than the inside of a Kindergarten teacher's room? Gabby doesn't think so.

Next stop, Kindergarten!