These past two weeks have been a dance — a push and pull and pirouette into a new routine. Yes, Milo and Oliver have been to school before, but this time it is completely and totally different, good different. And Emil, he is adjusting in a major way. He often says “I don’t want to go to school” and “I want to stay home with you, Mama!” but his overall well-being is good; he is clearly happy and healthy, albeit a bit more tuckered out. He never cries at drop-off, never tries to hold onto me or run back to the car, but sometimes at the end of the day he looks at me earnestly and says, “I was missing you today, Mama.”
And that is the hardest part, the knowing that school and friends and new experiences are enriching his life and so good for him, but also feeling that pull to hold onto him a little longer. He is just three, and suddenly gone from me all day, off in the morning with his little red lunch box, marching happily into his classroom after greeting his directress at the door, and not back in my arms until 3:30 in the afternoon. He often walks in holding Oliver’s hand, and I am reassured by his big brother’s care for him. But to deny that it tugs at my heartstrings (a lot) would be a lie. 
For Emil, it was zero to sixty. Sending him half days were not an option, as the school is quite far away and for me to drive out, then back, then out and back, then out and back again for his brothers… just completely crazy and impossible. We would spend half the day in the car. And so, full day, every day for little Emil. He is actually doing very well; he takes a nap every day with his little bunny pillow, plays on the playground with the bigger kids, and is busy busy busy in the classroom. I just… miss him!
This is the achy part of motherhood. The bittersweet goodbye. The feeling of freedom as I drive away to a day completely open to me — I grocery shop without distraction, I walk to a coffee shop and stop for several minutes along the way to watch a hummingbird. I sit in the sunshine with a book and drink coffee until I’m ready to leave. I clean and do laundry and the dishes from last night’s dinner, tidy up the house, water and weed and garden, mow the lawn, prepare dinner, chat with a friend. I write in a frenzy when inspiration strikes and lie on my back in the middle of the rug staring at the ceiling when I am stumped. I attend an open aerial class and wear myself out for an hour and a half on my own trapeze bar with no one watching, shoulders and arms and abs burning and shaking, my hands calloused and pink and aching as I pike my legs up and over the bar over and over again, a trick I wasn’t strong enough to do only a month ago. I drive home with the windows open and music loud. I miss them, all of them — the peanut gallery in the back seat is quiet and I miss it. And life is so good at this transition because I love this alone time and miss them too. And when I pick them up from school, my heart nearly bursts with pride and love. To hold Emil in my arms again in a big mama hug, to see Oliver’s inquisitive expressions and sweet silly smiles and excited stories, to hear the very style of Milo’s speech change over the day to something increasingly intelligent and interesting, it is all just such a gift.
They have never been mine, they are their own. I am so lucky to be a part of it.
I’m going through something similar…we decided last minute to let Kinsey go all day everyday. She just turned 5 and I had planned to put her in a half day program. But I was burned out from our move and she was ready. But still get a little sad every day, even though I know its best.
Wow, I’m so impressed with Emil that he is going to school full time! Such a big boy, Wyatt definitely isn’t ready for that (and I’m struggling with three mornings/wk)… But I bet the big brothers heading off to the same place is a tremendous comfort, and helps him rise to the occassion a little sooner. I think most kids express missing home at some point as they are adjusting. W told me yesterday that he liked his first day back at school, but he liked when I picked him up even better 😉
It sounds as though you are appreciating your new routine and embracing the freedom. As much as I adore being in the baby trenches, that schedule sure does make me swoon (especially as I try to take on more work and lose more sleep).
I’m increadably inspired by the balance your family always seems to have in life. I think that is a huge challenge and you appear to do it with ease.
I love that last sentence.
What “t” said. The best quote I ever heard about being a mom was something to the effect, and I paraphrase: ” God has given them to me on loaner. They’ve come through me and were never mine to begin with. I hope I’ve done them justice.”
Being an awesome Mom is a constant push-pull of love and independence on everyone’s part. NO greater a comfort to the rest of us than to see someone as great at parenting as you pine for her children, or suffer her worries about them to the world. You do all us a great service.
Aw, shucks! Thank you!
your writing is so beautiful. i really loved this. your last lines, especially — so stunning.
I had to read this post and then read it again another time. It was different to me both times. The first time I read it was soon after you posted it, over a very quick lunch break at my desk on what turned out to be a 14 hour day in the office. So the part that stuck with me was the description of your day – mostly because I stopped and asked myself if I could ever remember having a day like that. The answer is no. I can’t remember having even one, not once a month, or even once a year. It wasn’t necessarily jealousy, although I was so completely exhausted with work this week that I could have been a little of that. It was just an honest question to myself. Why in the world haven’t I ever had a day like that?
And I’m not even writing this comment as a debate about working moms at work or working moms at home. It’s just a concept I’m not as familiar with – my girls have always been out of my care for good portions of the day since they were born. Even still, I find myself with those same feelings as they try new things or reach new stages. I remember when E stood on the stage at her fifth grade graduation and her principal talked about her in such a way that it made me cry and cry and cry. It was the clearest moment I had ever experienced – just as you wrote above – she was not mine, she was not me, she was she.
There are moments of doubt when I question our choices in our lives, moments when we are so busy and tired and stressed. But I know that those feelings come to everyone despite best intentions, and those hours that we carve out together as a family are sacred. We fill them with stories and good food and hard play and laughter and lots and lots of books, we exclude the noise of tv and we unplug from everything else.
I’m excited for your boys and their new adventures, and yours as well.
PS. You can come mow my yard anytime! 😉
PPS. I’m sending the blog hop baton your way in a few.
Oh, Kristin! Thank you for your long and thoughtful comment! Just to be clear… I did not do ALL those things in ONE day, it was meant to be a description of things I do while they are in school, more accurately these things were accomplished over the course of three days, not one!
And your description of your daughter’s fifth grade graduation sounds so wonderful. It is a beautiful thing to know these little people we are raising, to see them through the eyes of others and to really understand that they are not us, not even extensions of us, really. They are just themselves. So great.
This is just so beautiful. Your days sound so full, and lovely!