From the moment Ethan came into the world, there was something almost magical about him. He resembled a tiny wizard or an ancient forest spirit, his wise eyes reflecting a calm that most infants lack—well, calm for a newborn. Honestly, it was a little unnerving at first, as if he was silently judging my every move. When my father held him for the first time, he remarked that before I knew it, I’d be shopping for a school backpack. I honestly doubted I would still be around long enough for that, fearing that the sleepless nights and anxiety would take their toll.
Fast forward to a few days ago when an orange camo backpack and matching lunchbox arrived in the mail. And yes, I’m still here.
Ethan has been attending daycare since he was just 12 weeks old. On his first day, I didn’t shed a tear. I’ve entrusted him to grandparents, day camps, and playgroups for hours, even days. With our recent move and frequent travels, we’re accustomed to comings and goings, embracing the ebb and flow of new teachers and routines.
So why does the impending transition to kindergarten feel so overwhelming? The essence of our daily lives remains unchanged. We’ll wake up, have breakfast, prepare lunch, and then part ways—Ethan off to school while I stay home to work. It should feel like business as usual, yet it doesn’t. As the first day at the bus stop looms closer, anxiety fills the air.
Scrolling through social media, I see photos of friends whose kids have already started school. I connect with other mothers. It’s clear everyone navigates the first day of kindergarten. Ultimately, this is what we desire for our children: growth, learning, new adventures, and friendships. The thought of Ethan being able to read fills me with excitement—how incredible is that?
Yet, amidst this progress, I feel the loss of something valuable. Time, primarily. If the past five and a half years have flown by, how quickly will the next thirteen pass? Will I manage to keep pace? Will I be able to remain engaged and present? Will I be able to hold on as he embarks on this journey?
Reflecting on the last five and a half years, I have no regrets. We’ve shared wonderful moments together, even during the challenging times filled with fatigue and frustration. We experienced cuddles, afternoon naps, and sunny days at the park. I don’t wish I had breastfed longer or spent more time at home or enrolled him in more activities. We found what worked for us—imperfect, complicated, and often messy, yet ultimately rewarding.
As we face kindergarten, I find myself wishing I had accumulated some wisdom about parenting. It often feels like I’m playing catch-up—rushing from one challenge to the next. Just when I think I’ve mastered one aspect, a new question arises. In a single day, I explain topics ranging from body parts to the mysteries of the universe, and the importance of kindness. It’s a whirlwind of information, and I often worry that my explanations are muddled. Parenting seems ever-evolving, requiring me to be calm and collected at every turn.
Uncertainty creeps in regarding whether I have the right answers—the ones that provide comfort and guidance—when it comes to school, bullies, teachers, and homework. The questions seem to grow more complex as Ethan begins to understand the nuances of life. I genuinely want to guide him correctly. This school experience is more significant than any previous milestone; its impact will last a lifetime.
Perhaps this is why the transition to kindergarten feels particularly daunting; it feels as though I’m being evaluated. Everything I’ve done so far will be scrutinized. Can he focus? Is he kind? Can he advocate for himself? Is he willing to take risks and learn? Have I given him enough love, attention, and space to build a solid foundation? Will school support or dismantle what we’ve created together?
I know that soon we’ll settle into our new routine, and it will feel natural. Just as we forget the pain of childbirth or the exact moment our baby first smiled, I’ll likely forget the comforting days of preschool. School will become our new normal. I can’t quite explain how this transition happens—the fading of memories and the settling into the new—but it does.
As I reflect on how the goo in the orange cup transformed into a little boy who just today smashed a wooden board with his elbow in Taekwondo class, I’m left in awe. I’m not sure if it’s due to my efforts, science, magic, or divine intervention, but perhaps it’s a blend of all those elements.
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In summary, transitioning to kindergarten brings a whirlwind of emotions, fears, and hopes for both parents and children. While the journey of parenting is filled with uncertainties, it is also rich with moments of joy and discovery that shape our lives.