Big Girls Don't Cry

I want time to stop and remain in these next few days forever.
And yet, some days, I just want to get it over with already, and see what it will be like.

I've been a mother for 5 years, 10 months and 8 days.  2,139 days.  For every single one of those days, Melinda has been by my side, never separated for more than a few hours.  Some days have been great, some days have been terrible, and some days I'll probably never even remember.  Even still, I'm not ready to let those days go.  I'm not ready to be the mom of the school girl.  I'm Becky... I stay at home with my kids.  Melinda is my #1 helper, my go-to girl.  She's the ringleader, the creative spark during playtime, the technical whiz, and often the biggest reason I convince myself to drag us all out of the house to do something interesting.  Because I know she'll like it.

My very first baby, my pride and joy.  She's a big girl, now.  Almost 6 years old.  And I sit here, trying to define all the thoughts and feelings that have been running through my head for the past few months, but more especially the last couple weeks.  I'm about to send her off to Kindergarten.  Alone in the big world for six and a half hours every day, making new friends where I can't watch, being responsible where I can't remind her what to do, making her own choices, learning her own way...

I suppose I'm lucky that I've had an extra year to get used to this idea of sending her off.  Because of her late birthday, she's just starting when she's almost 6, instead of almost 5.  I think she's ready.  Throw her into a room full of strange kids, and she'll immediately try to take lead of the situation. Nevermind if she forgets to ask anyone's name, and just shouts, "HEY, YOU!" instead.  Everything she does, she does with all her energy.  (The only way I can think to describe Melinda is to say that she's vivacious. Vibrant.)  I'm positive she'll throw herself into school with everything she's got.  In fact, she put up quite a fuss when I scheduled a time to go to her best friend's neighborhood swimming pool (at her request!) when it ended up having to be scheduled for after her 2nd day of school, in the afternoon.  "But I'll be too tired!!" she protested.  I'm sure school will be great for her.  She's already amazed me with her quick uptake on the reading. 

I feel like I'm in a constant state of rubber-necking.  Watching her grow in leaps and bounds (first it was the bike riding without training wheels, then it was swimming underwater when she used to be terrified of getting her face wet, and then it was reading whole books without any help from me)... all while constantly being reminded of the fact that she is so much the reason I am who I am.  The decisions I've made in my life, the person I've become... it's all happened largely because she was born.  And grew, day by day by day (all 2,139 of them), taking me right along with her.

And in just 6 more fleeting days, she won't be just mine anymore.  She'll be out there. 

And, yeah, I'll admit I'm quite worried if I let myself think about certain things: Will she be safe around strangers?  She has such a tendency to leap into the arms of any friendly-looking person, trusting and open-hearted as she is.... Role playing certainly didn't seem to help her grasp this concept of caution. Will she be safe???  And lesser worries: Will I plan ahead well enough give her wholesome lunches?  Will she be okay without her snacks between meals?? Will my calendar fill with crazy scheduling dances that I can hardly wrap my head around?  Will she be okay in a school setting and learn well?

Will Jacob and Alex miss her? 

Oh, definitely.  I hope they adjust well to the dynamic that the majority of their day will be without Melinda in charge.  I hope I remember how to play and interact with a 4 year old, one-on-one.  I hope I can manage to think of things that will be fun for them both.  For so long, Melinda's been my top priority when it's come to planning activities.  But now what?  If I want to think of an outing, what will I choose?  Oh my goodness, it will be boys that I'm catering to. Do I even know how to handle that??


Will I feel completely lonely without Melinda in the house?

Yes, I certainly will.  For at least a while. 
Maybe always... I don't know. 
My heart definitely wishes I could go with her, and at least watch her. 

Six more days.  Six more days I'm so grateful that I have.  I hope they will be good days that I will cherish... but I also know that they aren't enough.  I hate that I know that they won't be enough.  I'm still not ready to let go.  I don't think I'd be ready to let go if she were 30 years old and just leaving the house.

Well, maybe her teenage and adult years would prove me wrong on that one, but from my perspective here and now, I feel like I'd be heartbroken no matter when she left.

And maybe I'm being melodramatic.  Yes, I realize I'll see her every afternoon as soon as she gets home, and have every weekend with her, and many many vacations lie ahead of us... But seriously, this feels so much like the beginning of the end to me.  Once she starts school, I know that time will feel like it's going by at the speed of light, and before I know it, she'll be a teenager, then an adult, then moving out, getting married....

... And I just want her to be my baby forever.  The person who's there for her, day in and day out.  Life just won't be the same when she's gone for such a large chunk of time for so many days of the week.

Change is hard.  But it's exciting, too.  I can't wait to see her learn new things, and grow into her own person.  To see how I change and grow, too.  But mostly, I just keep thinking about these last few days being something I'll never repeat again.  It's definitely one of those life-changing moments, the day you send your very first child to school. 

It hurts to think about it.  I still don't know if I'm expressing my thoughts and emotions clearly... but I don't want this moment to go by without saying anything at all.  And I know I'm not going to be in any shape to say anything coherent on her first real day all by herself.  Maybe by the time I'm sending her off to college, I'll be more articulate.  But then again, I'll probably say much of the same, and with just as many tears: 

There goes my baby girl.