I Survived the First Day of Preschool

Today was Eli’s first day of preschool.  I knew I would be a wreck even though I kept telling myself I would play it cool, that I was in control of this situation.  In my mind I knew that as long as he kept it together, than I had half a chance of keeping it together.

I managed to keep things bright and cheery this morning even though I’m sick (again), and didn’t sleep most of the night.  This is not easy to do when you feel like you can barely stand up. 

Eli surprised me as we were getting ready to leave, yelling into the other room, “See you later, Dad!  I go to cool now!”  He stood there clutching his red canvas tote the preschool provides to all the kids, and truly looked excited to go. 

This might go well, I thought to myself.

And it did, right up until we got to the door of the classroom and Miss Ronda came out with a huge bottle of hand sanitizer and wanted to squirt some of it in Eli’s hand.  Apparently, this is not the way to say good morning to him on the first day of school.

He immediately started fussing, hid behind my leg, then clutched it.  I could feel myself starting to lose it, wondered how the hell I was going to get him into that classroom so I could make my getaway and cry in the car.

I bent down and let Miss Ronda put sanitizer on my hand and explained that it’s like lotion (we almost never use sanitizer).  He started to cry and giggle at the same time.  Miss Ronda asked him about his shirt, and ten seconds later he was holding out his hand letting her squirt sanitizer into it (I’ll say I wasn’t pleased with this routine, but that topic is for another day). 

Next thing I knew she was whooshing him off through the threshold of the classroom, not making eye contact with me (smart), and not letting me say goodbye to him (really smart).  I wandered down to the other door to the classroom.  It was closed and has one of those windows where you can see in, but the kids can’t see you on the other side. 

I waited for about thirty seconds, didn’t see Eli, couldn’t hear him crying/screaming, wanted to see Eli very badly just for peace of mind, then decided I needed to get my ass in gear if I was going to make it to the car without letting everyone see me cry. 

I could see another mom ahead of me, making the same dash to her car.  I could also tell she was bawling about halfway there and for some reason that comforted me.

The teachers left “goodie bags” in all the kid’s cubbies for the moms.  The “poem” attached to the outside:

You bring to us your child so dear,

Not without a touch of fear.

You both might want to shed a tear.

We promise we will love them here.

We’ll teach them they are a special one.

We’ll teach them school is lots of fun.

We’ll teach them how to share and play.

We’ll teach them something new each day.

Relax, go home, feeling free,

To have yourself this cup of tea,

Within days, you will see,

School is where they want to be!

So I didn’t get past the first stanza without becoming a blubbering mess.  When I got in the car I briefly felt like I was going to hyperventilate as the wall of questions came crashing down:  Was he okay?  Did he know I was coming back?  What if he got upset and they couldn’t calm him down?  Who were those kids?  Were they going to be nice to him?  Was he going to be happy there?  Was he going to hate it?  Was he going to hate me for leaving him there?  How could I leave him there? 

I couldn’t believe I had just… left him.  Just like that.  I took off, in a hurry.  It went against every mothering instinct in my body to leave him.  I felt horrible.

I know there are going to be so many more moments like this.  Moments where you have to let go.  Little by little by little.  Or, on some days, a lot.  Today was a lot for me.

When I came back to pick him up, the class was on the playground and he was in the sandbox, surrounded by toys.  He looked so happy.  He was only mildly excited to see me (this was a relief, actually).  I knew it meant he had been just fine.  In fact, I had to convince him to leave those cool new toys behind, had to remind him that Dad and Sophie were excited to see him, couldn’t wait to hear about his first day at school. 

The rest of the day was a challenge.  Every time I left the room he got upset.  He’s been super clingy.  This pulls on my heartstrings, and I wonder how things will go next Monday when I drop him off again.  I hope I will be stronger. 

I know it will get easier, for both of us.  Beyond that, all I can say is that it was a big day, for all of us, and we did okay.