My baggage. Her journey.

It’s that time of year. Spring is springing (supposedly), flowers are blooming (somewhere) and the days are stretching (boy, are they).  We are on the wind down of the school year as we coast into spring break.  I feel it.  The kids feel it.  And whispers of Kindergarten are on the lips of all of my friends who are faced with the same dilemma that I am; an upcoming empty nest.  Our last baby will start Kindergarten this Fall.  And it’s going to be wonderful.  And I’m likely going to have to be sedated.  I just can’t believe we’re here.  It’s probably no great coincidence that we’ve had our children five years apart.  About the time we’d get to this stage in the game, I couldn’t be too sad, because there was a new baby on the horizon.  But, this time, that’s not the case.  We are sending our swan song to the biggest performance of her life.  And I am sad. 

Today, I found myself talking about it again today.  And when we got home, Charlotte sat down beside me and said, “Mama.  Why does Kindergarten make you sad?”  And there we have it.  The moment when the rug is pulled out from under your feet and you realize that all those times you were joking with friends about a Xanax prescription and a boo-hoo brunch, someone else was listening.  The most important person was listening.  What had I done? 

So, I had to pull up a square of carpet next to her and admit that I was wrong.  I wasn’t sad about Kindergarten.  Truth be told, I’m excited for Kindergarten.  I am sad for ME.  And friends, guess what?  This isn’t about me.  This is her journey.  And, by God, I will not make this sweet baby carry MY baggage on HER journey. She has the most promising road ahead.  She is going to make friends and make memories and keep learning all of the things that make life great. I will not rob her of that. Selfish sadness is okay for a while, but it’s not okay forever. 

So, as of today, I’m done being sad.  I’ve decided that Kindergarten is going to be the most amazing adventure that anyone has ever taken. (At least that will be my public story.  Fake it till you make it, right?) And while I suspect that the first day of school will find me hiding behind a pair of dark sunglasses, as long as she sees a smile on my face, that future will remain pretty darn bright. 

Sail on, silver girl.  Thank you for always showing me the way.