Step by Step Parenting

Today is my stepson’s first day of kindergarten. He is ready. I am not.

He was only two-and-a-half years old when I first moved in with his dad, and my daughter was barely three. My husband and I potty-trained them at the same time. Thomas still wasn’t sleeping through the night, and would frequently wake up crying at three or four o’clock in the morning. I would rush into his room, which he shared with his sister and stepsister, scoop him up, and head to the recliner in the living room. I can still feel the weight of his little body against mine as he drifted off back to sleep. I would linger in that chairs for hours at times, not wanting to disturb his finally peaceful sleep. 

And today, he starts kindergarten.

I can’t remember the last time I had to rock him back to sleep. At some point, I did that for the last time, though I was unaware of it at the time. He no longer wakes up at three or four o’clock in the morning, but instead, stays in bed until the kids’ alarm goes off. 

He is more independent now, he is ready.

He used to request “cold milk” daily, and if you dared to try warm or lukewarm milk, he would let you know that was unacceptable. Curled up in a chair at the kitchen table, clutching his little lovie that he named, “Goki,” he would wait for you to bring him cold milk in a sippy cup. Sometimes, that cold milk was all he needed to fall asleep right there at the table.

And Goki, oh the trouble that little stuffed bear has caused over the years! Thomas has brought Goki everywhere: to Disneyworld, to the mountains, to preschool, in between his mommy’s house and daddy’s house, to the grocery store, to bed. For awhile, Thomas could not breathe easy unless Goki was near. Eventually, we convinced to leave Goki in his backpack at preschool, or in the car while we ran errands. But for all the years I’ve known him — over half of his life at this point — Thomas has needed Goki every time we dropped him off at his mom’s house and every time he came for his week with us.

Until yesterday. When my husband went to pick him up and asked if he had Goki, Thomas proudly announced that he didn’t need him anymore, and was going to leave him at mommy’s so he didn’t have to remember to bring him back at the end of the week. We have lots of stuffies at our house, he reasoned, so he would just sleep with one of those.

My husband saw Goki left behind, in the back of his mom’s car, where he’d be waiting for Thomas’s return. Thomas doesn’t need him anymore.

He is more independent now, more brave. He is ready for kindergarten.

Once he got home last night, I helped him get everything ready. I walked him through his snack options and what was in his lunchbox, so he could pick all of his favorite foods. He told me he wanted to take a bath so he could be “extra extra clean” for his first day, but laughed and declined bubbles when I asked, as if that was just the silliest question. We laid out his first day of school outfit — little man always loves to dress up for church, so he picked one of his favorite polos to wear on his first day. I ask him how he was feeling about tomorrow, wanting to see if he was nervous without wanting to put that idea in his head, and he said, “Super excited!” And then he listed all of his friends from preschool that would be in his class, what he was most excited for, and told me all about his classroom that he had seen a week before.

He is excited. He is ready. But it took this day arriving for me to realize that maybe I’m not.

I made his little letterboard sign for him to hold on his first day of school weeks ago. “Thomas’s First Day of Kindergarten,” it says, and it’s been sitting in the closet for weeks, just waiting for today. I cried when I made it, and I could feel tears start to form as I pulled it out today, so we could go out front and take his picture.

I have been in his life for three out of his five, almost six years. I missed out on his first few years of life, obviously, but have always been grateful that I got to enjoy the tail-end of his baby years, when he needed to be rocked back to sleep and requested cold milk every day. I have watched him grow from baby to toddler, and now, from toddler to little kid. Sending him off to kindergarten feels like the ultimate end of an era. It’s a reminder that we are closing a chapter for good, and opening a whole new one, one where he will thrive and have a blast and do amazing.

I wish I could have one more day with two-year-old Thomas, or three-year-old Thomas, or even four-year-old Thomas. I wish I could spend another afternoon with the little boy who loved to roll toy monster trucks around outside, dragging Goki behind him. I wish I could rock him back to sleep one last time, and feel his body grow heavy as he drifts off. I hope I never forget the way he says “scaphetti” instead of “spaghetti,” “aminals” instead of “animals,” or “misappears” instead of “disappears.” I want to remember that little boy forever, and in many ways, to me, he will forever remain that little boy.

But today, it is time. Time to release him in the world of grade school, time to let go, time to trust that he will be ok. I know he will be. I know his teachers do this every year, and they know how to keep an eye out for the kindergartners that are a little extra scared, or shy, or missing their mommy. Better yet, I know that his mom is just a hallway away, teaching fourth grade, and if anything goes wrong, she will be there. He will be okay; in fact, he will be more than okay.

I am not okay, however, and I’m just letting that be. I saved my tears for after he left, but the tears still fell. I am allowing myself to be happy and sad and scared and proud, all at once. And gosh, I am so proud. I have watched him grow from the most shy boy you’ve ever seen, to a confident little guy who makes friends everywhere he goes and will thrive in kindergarten. He has blossomed over the past year or so, and I am so proud of him.

I hope you have a great first day at kindergarten, buddy. I can’t wait to hear all about it in a few hours.