Sending in my best...

Yes, I know my blog is so behind, but my heart is heavy tonight, which turns to writing as an outlet, so I'll play catch up another time.  Here goes what's weighing on my mind...

Five years.  It sounds like a long time.  If you told me I couldn’t talk to a loved one, use my iPhone, or listen to music for five years, it would sound like an eternity.  But yet somehow, I blinked, and five years passed. Wasn’t it just yesterday I was having contractions wondering “Is this the real thing?” He’s not a newborn, not a toddler, and now not even my preschooler anymore.   Now he’s going off to kindergarten.  It’s kindergarten; it’s not college.  Why am I so emotional?  Am I really being THAT mom?  The moms that I watched, when I was a teacher myself, and thought “seriously?” Yep, I think I’ve become her. 

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t want MJ to go off to kindergarten.  There have been days when I felt like it couldn’t come soon enough.  I am SO excited for him.  I know he’s going to learn, grow, develop, make friends, gain confidence, and so much more. He needs the routine and structure, and  I look forward to being able to dedicate more special time to the two little ones.  I know all that.  Every logical part of my brain is happy, excited and thankful we even have this healthy child to send off to school.  But then there’s this knot in my stomach and ache in my heart that just isn’t quite ready to share him with the world.  Not quite ready to expose his fragile heart to all the cruelness that society can bring into our schools.  Yes, he’s done preschool since he was two. It’s not like he’s never been away from home.  But it was so minimal, and so Montessori (ie so loving, gentle, and low pressure).  This is different.  This is him away for HOURS in a new building (not to mention a new city and state) that I’m not very familiar with.  He’s not under my watch the majority of the day anymore.  I won’t know the words people speak to him, if he uses his manners, if he eats all of (or any of) his food.  I’m NOT IN CONTROL.  I think that’s the stabbing feeling.  He’s my baby, but somehow I have to release him and trust the world with him.  I no longer call the shots. Thank goodness I believe God will be surrounding him with HIS love and mercy. 

I hope he’s ready.  MJ is such a gentle and kind boy.  I think he’s ready to embrace new friends and learn new things.  I am so incredibly proud of all that he is and who he is.  He’s timid though.  He doesn’t like to try new things unless he thinks he’ll be great at it.  Did I prepare him enough?  Will he be behind the other children?  Will he catch on quickly and soar?  I remember being pregnant with him and thinking of how much I’d work with him during those toddler years.  I unexpectedly became a part time stay at home mom; surely I’d have no excuse.  He’d be reading early, and I’d be putting all my teacher skills to use, right?  After all, I was a Teacher of the Year District Finalist when he was in my womb, so surely I had this down pat, right?  Hmmph…  Life happened.  I read to him LOTS, played games, took him places, and helped foster a love for learning, but there were no flash cards, few learning websites, and no real forced practice of any skills.  If he didn’t want to, I never pushed it.  Instead I cuddled him and showered him with kisses.  It seemed perfect at the time, and I really don’t regret it one bit, but hopefully it was enough.  As a teacher, I remember one of my administrators saying “These parents are sending us their best.  They’re not keeping the good ones at home and sending the worst.  They are sending their best.”  I remember that really tugging at my heart, but I’m not sure I fully got it until now.  As parents, we do our best.  We try our hardest, in the way that we know how, and we hope that we send them off to school ready to learn and love.  Tomorrow, I’m sending off my best. 

I have prayed over the selection of MJ’s teacher.  You see, I always envisioned that I’d be teaching elementary school, and that my children would one day come to the school where I would teach.  I’d practically hand pick their teachers and feel great about the choices.  But again, life happened.  Things changed, and those are not our circumstances.  Instead, I’m in a brand new school district, and about to send my baby to complete strangers.  Those life changes allowed me so much sacred time with MJ during his early years, and I have no regrets, but once again it’s that uncomfortable feeling of relinquishing control and doing so in a situation where I truly am having to put my trust and faith in others.  I am confident though.  We are in the highest ranked school district in the state, a wonderful learning facility that I could’ve only dreamt of for MJ, and a teacher who comes so highly recommended.  Please let her love him, treasure him, and believe in him. 

In my head, I’ve written a letter to her several times over the last few days.  I will never give it to her because I can’t be THAT mom, but in my heart it goes like this…

 

Dear Mrs. Kenyon,

I am so excited to have you as MJ’s kindergarten teacher.  I have prayed that he would be placed with a teacher that was the best fit for him possible, and I am confident that is you.  I know you will have a classroom full of 18 students, and that you have a classroom full of students that come and go each year.  Still,  I believe that you will love, care for, and teach my son,  but I want to be sure you know that I am sending you my best. 

“For this child I have prayed…”  It’s a scripture verse of which I’m sure you’re familiar.  But seriously, for this child I HAVE PRAYED.  There were many months,  that turned into years, where I never thought there would even be a child.  I begged, I cried, and I prayed, and finally after five years and a journey too long to detail in this letter, this child was born.  There was elation, there were tears, and there was more begging.  You see, they told us he may not survive those first 24 hours.  It was dark, so very dark. For this child, I have PRAYED.  This was shocking, this was fear gripping, but then there was good news, and our boy made it.  He was a fighter.  We left the NICU, and they told us that he seemed to be so very healthy but we’d just have to wait and see how he’d develop.  There could be problems that arise during his developmental milestones or once he gets to school.  I shook my head thinking that was the very least of my concern.  My baby was here, my baby was alive, and I was taking him home.  He rolled, he crawled, he walked (quite early even), and he was so very perfect.  Any lingering fears subsided, and I was oh so grateful.  But now we’re here.  Now we’re entering kindergarten, and those words, that cautious tone, and that fear I thought was gone is back in the pit of my stomach.  I’m sending you my best, Mrs. Kenyon.  For this child, I have prayed.  For his teachers, I will pray.  I beg of you to love him (and us) and want so very much for him, even if just half as much as we do. 

I’ve been a teacher myself.  I know there will be days you are so weary.  You’ll be tired, overworked, underpaid, and weighed down by the politics of teaching.  Please teach your heart out anyways.  I know MJ will ask you 100 questions a day and you’ll probably want to silence him.  Please take a deep breath and find a way to encourage his curiousity.  I know my son will be stubborn at times, messy, silly, and distracted.  Please guide him and shape him anyways.  I know he may overreact, cry, or seem sensitive.  Please be firm yet tender with him.  We will support you in all that you do.  We are in your corner, cheering for you, encouraging you ,and singing your praises.  We are sending your our best and asking for your best.  Yes, I know it’s just kindergarten, but for this child I have prayed.  Please love him and teach him for the blessing and miracle I know him to be.