My son started pre-school today and I think I was more broken up about it than he was! He’s been attending a Montessori school since he was 18 months, so the idea of “school” is not new to him. I can’t help but think back to that time when he was almost 2 and going through some tough separation anxiety. Every time I started driving in the direction of the school he’d start screaming, “No School, No School! No School Mommy!” It made my heart melt almost to the point of me turning around. Note here I said “almost.” There was no chance in H-E double hockey sticks(doesn’t quite have the same impact as saying it, does it?), I was going to miss my opportunity to have a few hours to clean, run errands or, God forbid…..shower! It was difficult leaving a red-faced, screaming boy whose got his face pressed up against the glass, begging you not to go(here’s where you all send out a collective “Awwwweee”).
Yes, those days were tough on both of us but after a few months of the same battle, it does start to wear on you. You start to dread going anywhere because you know it’s going to be a big, loud production leaving him at the child care place and all you want to do is get your stupid hair cut without running after a toddler who decided that the color girl didn’t know what she was doing and it’s up to HIM to mix your hair color specially for you. But, the days go by and your toddler gets older and smarter and more independent, and one day you wake up and he’s begging you to leave him at the gym’s kid center and asking when he can go back to school. My husband dropped him off this morning and said that it was like letting a bull out of a pin, that’s how excited he was. I guess I should be happy and a bit relieved that my kid is the one that doesn’t cling and throw a fit….but I’m actually kinda sad. I’m starting to miss those days when he didn’t want to leave my side, but everyone’s gotta move on sometime and with kids, you’re either in, or you’re out(only to be read in Heidi Klum’s weird accent from Project Runway). Meaning, one day you’re the cat’s pajamas and they just love, love, LOVE you and can’t be without you; the next, when they don’t need you anymore, you’re wanted about as much as a sailor wants a venereal disease. At least I have an 8 month old and I’m very much looking forward to bitching about separation anxiety all over again.