Monday, September 5, 2011

It's a sad day in Mudville ...

It's a holiday. We had a wonderful family day together, taking in brunch at Goofy's Kitchen (if you've never been, it's a must go when at Disneyland), walking briskly through the Magic Kingdom (too crowded and hot to stay long), and resting together for what we call "Family Nap Time" (FNT) around these parts. 

But something makes me feel like I've just had the Last Supper. 

You see, my baby starts preschool tomorrow. (Before you ask, yes, I have a flair for the dramatic). 

I just want to know how we got from this:

to this:

SO QUICKLY! I feel like I blinked and three-and-a-half years went by. Three and a half of the best years of my life: raising, loving on, coddling, scolding, wrestling with, chasing after, napping, and dreaming with my sweet little man. I now take back ALL those times (and they were numerous) I wished he was in school because the time has now come, and I don't want him to go. It's truly a sad day in Mudville. I'm not sure if I'll even sleep tonight. Sheesh, what a baby I am. 

I just feel like this is the end of an era. From tomorrow on, he is a school boy. I am more excited for him than I can contain, but nervous for how he's going to do and definitely not sure how I'm going to do. For goodness' sake, I nearly broke down in tears when I dropped off his paperwork and they showed me his cubby. His cubby, for crying out loud! 

The bond between mother and child runs so deep; it cuts right to the bone. I love this boy more than I could ever imagine loving anything and I want so desperately to see him succeed and grow to be a godly man. Which is why I have to send him off tomorrow, smiling on the outside while I'm crying on the inside, and let him know I'm giving him room to grow. It's just so hard. 

I feel like this begins the process I'll go through over the next 15 years of letting go. Bit by bit, as time goes on, I'll let go a little more to give him a little more room. But not too much. The best I can do is entrust him to my heavenly Father and ask that He will walk the steps with my son that I am not there to walk. 

Father, please be there when he trips going up the steps to class and skins his knee, when he gets his feelings hurt from being teased by a mean classmate, when he's stammering to get out a word as he learns to read, and all those little times where mama's love would work wonders. Be my eyes, my ears, my heart, and my arms when I'm away from my boy. Father, your love works wonders greater than I can ever imagine. With You by his side, my boy can do anything. 

So can I. I can do anything through Christ because He strengthens me. So, tomorrow morning, I'm going to put on my big-girl panties and send my little champ off to preschool, knowing we'll all make it through the day. There will be tears and lots of photos, but there will also be faith that things will go well because God's in control.

Oh, and if you see someone's hands being pried off the door handle of the preschool, it's definitely not me. 

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