This past weekend, I enrolled my youngest child in pre-K, and I couldn’t help but shed a few tears—okay, a lot of tears. Like many parenting milestones, it was a mix of joy and melancholy.
On one hand, the thought of having four hours a day to myself feels like a dream come true. After nearly a decade of being a predominantly stay-at-home parent, the arrival of September marks my tenth year in this role. That’s a whole decade—a reality that often escapes my sleep-deprived mind.
I’m thrilled about the opportunities awaiting my son. During our visit to the pre-K, his fascination with the dollhouse, building blocks, and trucks made it difficult to coax him out when it was time to leave. While I have no doubts he’ll flourish in his new environment, I can’t shake the feeling of what this change means for me.
As much as I yearn for a break from the constant demands of caring for young children, I know I will miss the little things. I’ll miss his small frame curled up on my lap during rainy afternoons as I read him yet another story about trains. I’ll even miss his endless requests for snacks, whether it’s Goldfish, chicken nuggets, or cheese sticks. I’ll miss those sticky little hands tugging at my shirt as I juggle the never-ending pile of dishes.
With seven months remaining before he starts school, I find myself savoring each day, aware that this precious time is limited. It’s a bittersweet feeling; I’m relieved that some of the more challenging aspects of parenting will soon ease, yet I can’t help but ruminate on the fleeting nature of our shared moments. The finality of it all pulls at my heartstrings.
In the early days of motherhood, it was hard to envision a brighter future. Between sleep deprivation, my children’s intense needs, and my own self-doubt, it felt as though the chaos would never subside. Yet now, I have a date circled on the calendar that represents freedom. As I watch the days pass, I keep telling myself, “It was worth it.”
It truly was.
A decade filled with emotional highs and lows—wiping away tears, battling snotty noses, and enduring sleep interruptions from tiny hands prying my eyes open. A decade of long days with hardly a conversation with anyone over the age of 9 and the struggle to complete a single task without 47 interruptions. A decade of clothes stained with everything from spit-up to pasta sauce. Of cold coffee, quick meals, and a floor littered with half-eaten snacks.
A decade spent counting down the minutes to bedtime while feeling guilty for my impatience and frustration throughout the day. A decade of feeling like I could never measure up to these boys’ needs. A decade of being their everything.
It was all worth it—even the tough moments, perhaps those especially. Those times when I felt overwhelmed and wanted to escape; I pushed through anyway. Love carried me through. It showed me the strength I never knew I had. Love taught me how to function on minimal sleep and how to forgive myself more easily.
I recognize that my son’s entrance into school won’t magically resolve all the challenges of motherhood. I will still spend countless hours parenting, and the hurdles faced with older children can sometimes be even more emotionally taxing. Yet, the anticipation of this change serves as a poignant reminder of how quickly these years have flown by. Right now, I strive to make the most of each day, acknowledging that both the difficult and beautiful moments are transient. I’m learning that everything—even the most overwhelming experiences—will ultimately be worth it.
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In summary, the journey of motherhood is filled with both challenges and joys, each moment contributing to the rich tapestry of our lives. As I embrace the changes ahead, I remain committed to cherishing every experience.