Vulnerability

The first of August hit me like a ton of bricks. All summer I've been totally fine and even excited about Toby starting school this fall. Until Saturday.

I'm about to get dramatic and mushy... and confusing. Turn back now if you're not up for the ride.

Toby starts school September 1st. As I changed my calendar, it occured to me that this is the last month he has before he starts a long educational career. Yes, I know he's only three. Yes, I know it's only 3 days per week. But, it's school. It's not a baby-sitter. It's not his nanny. It's a school. We had to apply. He had to interview. I had to write a tuition check. He has a dress code.

In a month he will meet peers and classmates he could potentially be with until he is 14-years-old (should he continue pursuing Montessori.) Every single thing we've done with him, since birth, has been measured, intentional, and purposeful. But, in less than a month, we will have little control over his daily activities three days per week.

I'm not looking for an antidote, or a cliche reassuring me that he will do just fine. That he will thrive. That he will be great with his peers. How good it will be for him to get a new experience. I know all of this. That's why we chose to enroll him. He is so ready for something new. We know our kid. He is compassionate. He is thoughtful. He compliments people. He is affectionate. I know he's smart. I also know he will have some struggles adjusting. I'm anticipating that. I'm not concerned about those things. I expect those things.

I'm worried about how I'm going to feel.

Part of me is scared I messed something up... that I/we failed him somehow. I know we all do the best we can. And again, I'm not looking for an antidote; I'm not striving for perfection from anyone, but, allow me to just free associate here.

Once I drop him off, all bets are off. He's subject to the real world. Being bullied, or being a bully. Hearing truths about politics and Santa Claus. I won't get to see his face the first time he solves a math problem. I won't know exactly how much he ate for lunch (yes, my nanny keeps copious notes for me.) I know I currently miss some of these things anyway... but that's not my point. My point is that it's possible nobody will see his face the first time he solves a math problem. It's likely he will throw his lunch away, maybe without anyone checking to see how much he ate. That thought destroys me.

I remember the feeling I had the first time he got up from playing, walked into the bathroom, used the potty, flushed the toilet, washed his hands and then came back to play. It was such a sadness for me. Of course I was happy but, I also had this sinking feeling that my little baby was slipping away.

September 1st makes his growing up feel way more real to me.

I know he's ready for this. I know he will do great. He really is an extraordinary kid. People enjoy being around him. Not only is he ready for this... he needs this. He needs (more) peer interaction. He needs a bit more structure (as much as Montessori offers.) He needs to learn to follow instructions. He also needs to learn social justice, patience, and consequential thinking.

But I'm still sad. And I'm scared. And I'm worried about the world being cruel to my sweet little boy. As much as I know it's important for him to be picked last, ignored by a peer, or disciplined by an instructor... I hate that he will suffer little heartbreaks because of this. Just because they are an important part of growing up doesn't mean I have to like them.

I have so much more to say about this but I don't have the words for it. I'm so incredibly excited for him; for us. I look so forward to seeing what he is interested in and who he turns into while I'm not buzzing around overhead. But, there is still a painful loss in what we'll gain. You know?

In the meantime. While I fluctuate at a diagnostically significant rate between excitement and dread, we're doing everything we can to make this an incredibly memorable summer for him. Memorable as in... zoos, amusement parks, quiet family picnics, helicopter rides and vacations up the wazoo. But, that's for another post.

And, to end this on a positive note. With the exception of his first day of school outfit... which is being custom made as we speak, and a few things that are back-ordered, I have the majority of his school shopping done. That was, quite obviously, the easy part for me.

****Edit: I always title my posts after I write them. As I was thinking of what to call this story, I had several thoughts flood into my mind and I mentally pictured myself holding open my hands to a little baby bird flying out of them. The first word I associated to my mind's picture was "vulnerable." As I typed the word in the header I pondered why I chose that word. When I challenged myself to think deeper into it, I realized that I feel so exposed sending my son out into the world. He is absolutely everything to me. Therefore, I have everything to lose. I take such care and pride in intentionally parenting him that now I'm sending him out into the world... as if to say, "See? See what I made? I'm so very proud of him. This is my creation and I just love him so much. Please be very careful with him."

And that makes me feel incredibly vulnerable.