First Day of Kindergarten


It happens so quickly, and yet at the same time, so slowly. One day you’re holding a tiny baby, wiping bottoms and runny noses and wondering when you’re ever going to have a minute to yourself. Those days are so very long, and you grab on to any part of adult life that you can – date nights or time with girlfriends without kids. ANYTHING to not have someone hanging on you. And then you blink, and suddenly five years have passed. You’re taking that tiny newborn baby to his first day of school.  You’ve been preparing him for this, but somewhere along the way, you forgot to prepare for it too.

Yesterday morning, I woke up with the alarm at 7am, and was semi-surprised that Jude wasn’t already awake, as typically he’s our early riser. So I went upstairs and in that early morning light, I saw his little head underneath the comforter, and I ran my fingers through that sweet  red hair.  “It’s time for school,” I said in that same tone of voice that my mom used to use (my sibs and I now call it The Sweet Mother Voice – hehehe).

“But I’m so tired,” he moans.

And that’s when I knew that he is officially a big kid. A school age kid.  A kid I’m going to have to pry out of bed in the morning to get out the door in time for school. He came downstairs and hopped into our bed in that sleepy stumble-y walk with eyes half-open, and I brought him breakfast  while he watched cartoons. Teeth were brushed, hair was combed, uniform put on. And then it was time to go, so as a family of 3 we all went up to the school and walked him proudly through the door. I don’t think he even noticed when we left.

We made it about 500 feet away from the school and I started to cry.  And then I went home and cried as I made his teeny tiny bed and saw his teeny tiny shoes laying on the floor.  I prayed out loud specifically for his teachers and for his school and then called my mom because I knew that she’d get it.

I can’t promise I won’t shed a few more tears — the process of this growing-up business is so brutiful, as Glennon likes to call it. Brutiful – brutal and beautiful. But there is no greater joy – no greater honor – in being the parent to this precious child.

Pass the Kleenex, would you?



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