Today was…a day.
It was the first day of Kindergarten for Big Brother Cub.
And…we prepared. We attended two separate orientations. He took a joy ride on the school bus. His previous school talked to him about Kindergarten. We talked about Kindergarten. We talked about taking the school bus to Kindergarten. Ad nauseum. We. Did. All. The. Things.
And still…there were tears.
His and mine.
Last Night: My Tears
As I was trying to fall asleep the night before his first day of kindergarten, I felt anxious…for him. I suppose that’s normal for parents of children going through huge transitions. However, my anxiety for Ryan is exacerbated due to his disposition. You see, my Ryan is a sweet, sensitive soul; he feels things deeply. Therefore I, in turn, will feel for him deeply. Knowing all of this–and since I was having a hard time sleeping–I suggested to Melvin that we pray about Ryan’s first day of school; he obliged. And as Melvin prayed, tears streamed down my cheeks.
Ryan entering Kindergarten is a huge milestone–as it is for all children, of course. However, my emotions were not so much about him starting school (he’s been in some form of daycare/pre-school for five years). For my particular tiny human, this milestone was especially poignant. As I reflected on his short life, I was overcome with just how much change has been a constant for him. He:
- was born into a commuter marriage (a fun surprise for us all! That’s a story for a different post…)
- spent the first year of his life on-the-go shuttled between three sets of grandparents as we cobbled together child care
- commuted with me every week from NYC to AC as I traveled for work (we put in miles together up and down the Garden State Parkway!)
- moved out of NYC at age one
- has lived in six different houses in as many years (to include temporary housing as part of relo)
- has attended seven different schools in six years
This kid has endured more transitions than some adults I know. And he has the tiger stripes to show for it. He is resilient as heck and I pray that this all serves him well but I’m certainly conscious of how it has affected him (which we’ll cover in a different post) and thus extra sensitive to his transitions.
Sooooo…that was me.
This Morning: His Tears
This was right before I figured out things were about to go south.
He was a champ all morning as we prepared for his first day of school. He was excited as we walked to the bus stop. When he arrived, he introduced himself–and his sister who was not present because we had already dropped her off at her school–to everyone that would listen. “Hi. My name is Ryan. And my sister’s name is Reagan. She goes to XYZ Montessori School. I am going to Kindergarten today.” It was beyond adorable. He was The Mayor of the Bus Stop in all of his congenial confidence.
As we waited…and waited…and waited (the bus was late), I watched him grow quiet and more reserved. Clearly, his anxiety was building. I attempted to keep him distracted through play and conversation. At one point, he was presumingly over it and said to me in frustration “Mommy, I wanna go to Kindergarten right now!” Clearly, the kid has inherited my patience–or lack thereof. He was ready to go.
At long last, the bus arrived. All of the children ran on the bus. The look of sheer terror immediately covered his face. I didn’t even see it happen. Suddenly, he was crying uncontrollably, clinging to my leg, and refused to get on the bus. Everything I tried to console him failed. Miserably. His crying escalated. The bus driver was ready to go. One parent finally suggested I walk him on the bus. I climbed the first step with him and let him go the rest of the way. The bus driver motioned for him to sit in the front seat, right behind him. Ryan obliged and continued to sob. I rushed off of the bus. Dazed and confused.
Also This Morning: My Tears…Again
All of the other parents quickly dispersed–they seemed to have vanished into thin air. Because their kids weren’t having a meltdown. Like my kid.
I made my way back to my house in somewhat of a fog–still processing what the hell had just happened because it all transpired so quickly! As I walked through the house, tears flowed…again. My heart broke as I envisioned my baby boy sitting on the front seat of the school bus, by himself, in tears.
Without thinking, I wiped my eyes, grabbed my work bags, and sprinted to my car. I made a beeline to the school in hopes I would beat the bus, watch the students disembark, discover my little guy smiling while walking inside, and realize my worry was for naught. Unfortunately, the bus beat me there (duh!) and the students were already inside. I eventually spotted the principal milling about in front of the school and headed in her direction. Yes. The principal. As in the head of the school. In the middle of arrival. On the first day of school. *shrug* I conveyed to her what had happened with Ryan and asked if someone could check on him to ensure he was ok. The assistant principal explained that there were counselors in the class to assist the kindergartners with the transition and that she was happy to check on him. She scurried off to do so. She later reported that he had calmed down and was in a good place: he was in class, talking to his friends, showing off his hair cut…and his lunch box. And all was well with the world again.
Sigh.
There’s more to it…including the return ride home on the school bus and pickup from the bus stop this afternoon (which was much better). However, I’m emotionally drained at this point…and…I’m just over my own melodramatic woes. Besides, I have to wake up at 5am to workout (see here) and it’s already 10p. So, I’m done with this topic. LOL.
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