abitofwitt: Learning to Let Go

Tuesday, September 4, 2018

Eloise Mae,

You started school today. I barely slept last night. I packed you turkey and cheese roll ups, yellow peppers sliced thin the way you like them, grapes, and three alphabet cookies for dessert. I wrote you a note I hoped your teachers would read to you. I worried about what in the world I will pack my PB&J loving girl for your peanut-free classroom all year. You wore a denim overall dress with a white shirt underneath, navy blue bunny flats, and a white bow with cursive ABC's printed on it. I carefully chose each piece of your outfit weeks in advance, joking with a friend that surely your Harvard career would be over before it began if I didn't pick just the right thing. You forced a smile and said, "too many mom" as I snapped 598 pictures. You wanted to smell the new mums on the porch more than you wanted to be photographed. You smiled bigger, your gorgeous true grin, when I told you Santa was watching and working on his nice list. My heart raced watching you hug your brother goodbye outside. He cried not knowing where his best friend was going and why he couldn't go too. Or maybe he just cried because he saw all of the colorful toys in your classroom out of his reach. Only Harvey knows the truth. We walked into your very first classroom together, just me and you. The same way we started. You were full of confidence and a kind heart. Your tiny hand let go of mine, your new Frozen lunchbox held proudly in the other. You hung up your backpack at your cubby, the last one in a row of shiny new backpacks. I asked to take another picture (I know, I know) next to your cubby simultaneously as you discovered your dress had pockets. No chance of a smiling picture. The first thing you played with was a kaleidoscope with images from Peter Pan when you turned the wheel. Next was a bin of Mr. Potato Head toys. Next was a blonde haired boy named Logan (Uncle Josh already has a close eye on him). You sat on an orange triangle matching your name tag in a circle with your classmates when your teacher said it was time to read a special story before goodbyes. I kissed your hand and you kissed mine just like Chester Raccoon and his mama do in The Kissing Hand. I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying hard not to be the crazy mom that loses it. I missed your Daddy a ton, almost as much as I missed him the day you were born. And then we hugged tight, I reminded you that I love you always and to be kind, and I walked away.

It is just preschool. It is only two days a week. But on this day, the fleeting period of time where you were all mine ended. Up until today I have been a part of nearly every minute of your life. I have heard and seen all of the things said and done to you, and I have been there every step of the way to help your tiny brain process new experiences and emotions. I have to let go now. I have to accept that things will shock you in both good ways and bad. People will hurt your feelings while others will lift you up. You will excel in your strengths and struggle with your weaknesses. And beginning today I might not be there to see you do it and help you through it. That realization is a hurdle of parenthood that I was not expecting to struggle with as much as I am.

I want to remember every tiny detail of today and who you are right now. I was the biggest eye roller of them all when moms much wiser than me told me not to blink because you will grow up too fast. Those words should not be said to a new mom who feels like she will never sleep through the night again. But now I wish I could shout that sentiment, as annoying as it may be, from the rooftops for all moms to hear. It feels like last week they put you in my arms for the first time. We met and I had to learn the difference between your cries and the way you liked to be rocked that soothed you best. Did I embrace it all enough? Did I document it all properly to reflect on years from now? My hard drive overflowing with pictures says I did. And I hope these words will capture the way I felt letting you take those first small steps out into this journey on your own.

I know you will thrive in this great big world. You are more than capable of holding your own. I am going to do my best to describe you as you are on this day. You are joyfully energetic. People are naturally drawn to you because you make them laugh. You are eager to learn, observant, full of questions, and have a steel trap memory. Promises made to you even months ago are always fulfilled, you make sure of it. You are very in tune with others' emotions and desperately want to achieve happiness for all. You will often ask, "Is he/she a little bit mad or a little bit sad?" You are stubborn and strong. On days when your stubborn combines with a threenager attitude we say you are being a little spicy. You like things done the way you imagined. You are a natural born performer and comedian, always singing and dancing. You like to pretend to be a baby cat and assign people silly names. Silly names are usually jibberish for everyone except Harvey. His silly name is always Bob. You are adamant in your declaration that when you grow up you want to be a firefighter and a mommy. Every morning you shout excitedly from your bed, "It's wake up time! The sky is awake!" Your curiosity and zest for life is something I try to learn from you every day. Your spark is something special.

I waited excitedly in line as they released you one by one to us. You ran across the room back into my arms with the biggest smile on your face, the Santa is watching kind. Your tiny hand slipped effortlessly right back into mine. Your teacher said the most notable part of your first day was that you were a good friend to a crying classmate who was missing her mom. She said you drew our stick people family and beautiful blue waves on the easel. Your curls were messy with a piece sticking out of it's style I had neatly secured that morning. A sure sign of a good time. You described your first day as terrific, a word I didn't even think you knew, and said the best part was eating lunch. A girl after my own heart. I breathed a sigh of relief with you not only back by my side, but back after a great first day. I knew you would love it. Because you love to learn, play, and be social so much I am confident your educational career is going to be thoroughly enjoyed. Those first day jitters? I think they were mostly all me this year, and maybe they still will be for every year to come as I watch your independence grow. While you are busy learning to read, write, add, and subtract, I will be learning to let go.

And as for Harvard? We agreed after reviewing pictures of adorable you today that your early acceptance letter should be on its way. Michigan State would of course be a great choice too. Wherever you want to go and whoever you want to be, Dadford and I will be right here to cheer you on. We are your biggest fans. I am so proud of you, Eloise.

Love,
Mommy

Had to crawl before you walked

Before you ran

Before I knew it

You were trying to free your fingers from my hand

Cause you could do it on your own now

Somehow

Slow down

Won't you stay here a minute more

I know you want to walk through the door

But it's all too fast

Let's make it last a little while

I pointed to the sky and now you wanna fly