My Mami and me walking to the store 

Preschool was difficult for me. I cried every single morning for 5 months! Every. Single. Morning. I remember it so clearly. Every morning I would get ready for school, walk in with my mom or dad, and then the second I knew they were leaving, I would morph into a wildling. Literally. There was no talking sense into me, there was nothing. I can now see my moms facial expressions and see how stressed out she was, and clearly, tired of dealing with my behavior every morning.

I knew they would come back for me, it was never a questions of being left. My sister and brother were at the same school, in a sweet little town called Santa Maria in Central California. We all got dropped off together and I would be picked up first. Yet, I cried. I loved being with my mom, walking to our local grocery store, ABC, spending our mornings lazily, drinking my warm milk while I snuggled in our very warm cream colored couch, watching my mom move around the kitchen. There was no place I would rather be. I felt safe, loved, and complete. I remember having a very patient preschool teacher, very sweet. Those are the extent of my memories of that period of my preschool year.

My Bryce hiking partner

Christmas came and all the fun activities rolled out. I was skipping next to my mom as we were walking into my school, feeling accomplished that I had “won” that morning’s school battle, and therefore got to go back home with my mom because neither her or the teacher were able to get me to stay. All my classmates were walking out with these beautiful ginger bread houses. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t get one, and my very patient teacher’s answer was very simple, “You didn’t stay in school today, so you missed the project.” I was devastated. That moment defined my preschool years and my mother’s freedom.  I never cried again.

Fast forward to today. Elea is the same age. Newly turned 4 and very strong willed. Has done amazing in all our Mommy and Me, including drop off in preschool. In the Fall she will be starting a new Spanish  immersion school. Big change. She will be leaving all her friends, some of which she’s been with since she was and infant. So after some encouragement from our MFT, I put her in Spanish camp to prepare her transition. I sent Papa to do the drop off. My heart felt heavy and I could almost feel the butterflies in her stomach in mine. I buckled her in and waved goodbye as Papa drove both babes to Spanish camp.

An hour later Papa calls and breathes a sigh of exhaustion, and says, ” that was hard.” My reply was ” thank you for doing that, I think it would have been much harder if I would have done it.” He laughed and said, “I don’t think it could have been any worse.” But I know it could have, because she’s me 30 years ago. I’m sure my Mama is having a ball in heaven this morning.

XO

No caption necessary 🙂