A Milestone

Jack started "school" today. Three days a week, he visits the Early Childhood Center of a local church and spends a few hours playing with other kids his age. He looked so big in his overalls and backpack, and even seemed anxious to return to the classroom we had visited with his dad a few days earlier.

He hesitated a moment at the door, not from fear, but only to choose which direction to take first. Upon noticing a playhouse in the corner, the decision was made. And he stepped in and began to play without a backward glance.

Recognizing my window, I slipped away and out to my van. I was nothing but proud of his behavior, and began to run a few errands while our sitter, Tessa, watched the triplets at home. The chores didn't take as much time as I had anticipated, and I realized I would need to return home and wait for about an hour until it was time to pick Jack up from school.

I was almost surprised to realize I had chosen a route home that took me by his school. Driving by, I had to fight to keep the wheel from turning and taking me to retrieve him. A glance at the clock reminded me he would be in the middle of his lunch, and with my resolve strengthened, I continued home.

It was only then that I realized I'd been driving around all day with a hole in my chest where part of my heart had been left behind. I had a silly moment of identifying with all the overprotective mothers of the world. Even though the church had done us a huge favor by finding Jack a space, I wanted to march in and tell them we would no longer be needing their services. I resisted the urge with difficulty, and wondered if I was a bad mom. After all, he obviously enjoyed playing with children his own age. And with all my additional responsibilities, he would often find himself parked in front of the television if he were with me 24 hours a day. Maybe I would have preferred a tearful meltdown upon my departure? One of those that leaves everyone around shaken and disturbed. Only a selfish person would choose either of those alternatives.

So I pulled it together, made it home and waited the full hour until pick-up time. I can't say I didn't check my watch more than was necessary. When I arrived, I was told Jack ate some of his snack and all of his lunch, played well with the other children, and only cried briefly during his stay. I sincerely wish he hadn't shed one tear, and hope those will be his last. Maybe I'm not such a bad mom after all.