She felt afraid. Worried she wouldn’t know enough. Missing how she used to be a baby, she said. Not ready.
She felt excited. To meet friends and wear a purple backpack and practice numbers and read books with Ms. Foster. So ready.
The day before kindergarten started, we followed whims because my girl and I are sort of experts at that. We had just the kind of day we wanted.
We built a zoo for the Lego animals, dealt with that complaining and jealous
mama giraffe by making a community where they would all need to share. In the big house, they’d prepare meals together, take turns sitting at the table, watch the kids play on that lovely playground, cluck their thanks.
When we were done building, everyone was so happy they danced, and the polar bear even climbed to the top of the palm tree to celebrate.
At the store, we picked out giant chocolate chip cookies and ate them in the car. We drove fast and slow over speed bumps just for fun.
At home, we painted toenails and fingernails and added a thick grownup top coat so they’d stay extra sturdy as she crossed monkey bars and used a pencil all day.
In the afternoon, we read one of her favorite baby time books. I felt the line stretching between now and then, remembered how we rocked in the glider, the sound machine and our shared sing-song preparing the way for sleep I hoped would come.
Last Thursday, I read Only You as a promise she could take with her. I love everything about you. Your nose. Your eyes. Your hands. Your heart. No matter where you go, you and me, we’re made for each other. I always hold you with me, you know?
Before we picked up sisters from school, we stopped by the neighborhood secondhand store because Lala needed a little something to hold herself, to remember who she is, whose she is and how crazy much she’s loved.
My mama heart needed to be sure she knew.
We tried on butterfly necklaces and fingered the lines of a big silver cross. We looked at images in the 80’s ViewMaster and perused little freebee figurines in a basket. She chose the innocent-eyed boxing hippo because why wouldn’t a sweet girl with an unexpected toughie side?
Then we saw it, the beaded envelope, hanging from the end of a shimmering purple strand. On the back of the envelope a happy little row of gold daisies. On the front — one big heart and five small flowers.
Later that night, she and Papa chose just the right thing to fit inside — a tiny picture of the five of us. There we all were in that teensy pouch, the ones planted to grow side by side. The ones who’d pick her over and over again.
When Lala stacks blocks or draws a picture or runs across the playground or eats lunch, when her heart misses home and being really little. When she’s ready and not ready, she can wear it against her chest or stick her hand in her backpack where she’ll hold it for safe keeping, remember the strands of sparkle that are woven right through.
At the end of that first day, I squeezed my little kindergartener in the giraffe-print dress and “ballet bun,” hugged her so tight.
“I ate my whole lunch!” she declared.
“I got the container open by myself.”
“I pushed four kids on the tire swing!”
“I made two friends!”
“Did you look inside the pouch of your necklace today?” I asked.
“Yeah, about ten times,” she said in a matter of fact way — one that reminded me of a love you carry with you, the kind you just know.
Linking today with Kelli and Heather‘s writing communities.
Connecting through the power of stories written, spoken and lived
sooo sweet!
Thank you, my buddy. So glad we got to connect today. xoxo
What a sweet post. I love her little momento to keep her family close to her heart as she ventures out into this big world. My five year granddaughter started kindergarten this year. (Wasn’t she just a baby yesterday?) Day two of kindergarten she was upset at her mama for not letting her bring a tin of sardines to school for snack time! She loves them, (her scottish and new england gene pool must be a factor here), but her mama wasn’t willing to let her commit social suicide quite yet with such a stinky snack!
Haha! Oh my goodness, Elizabeth. That is hysterical! What a quirky little sweetheart. They come into the world with such uniqueness, don’t they? Praying for these little loves that they would retain what makes them uniquely them and that the big world wouldn’t have any power to take that away from them. I appreciate you. What a loving and involved grandma you are, too. xoxo
Super sweet, Ashley! She has gotten so big!
Hasn’t she?! Even though I don’t show my girlies’ photos on my blog, can’t you just tell by her hands? They’ve still got those dimples, but they are growing growing growing. Wow. How it passes.
Oh what a precious moment in time. Thank you for sharing this tender season of change with us. I am so glad you have one another. It is beautiful.
Thank you, dear Kelly. What a mama’s heart you have…I love how it extends deep and wide. Bless you.
Oh, I’m feeling this post in my heart and all the way down to my toes. My baby began kindergarten a few weeks ago. My baby in kindergarten and my firstborn driving his own car. Could we please just lasso time and breathe slowly? I’ve missed you friend. Praying your new season is filled with new joys, new adventures, and fresh faith.
Oh, mercy. What letting go, from one side to the other for you. I can only imagine. Breathing with you, friend, and praying this season finds you able to receive like a child yourself for a little while. I love you.
What a beautiful post on love and letting go…a little at time. Just beautiful, my friend.
That’s just it, isn’t it, Dea? One letting go after another. Grateful for mamas like you who show the way with such tenderness and grace. Bless you.
(tear in my eyes)…my dear, all I can say is these girls are more than lucky to have a Mama like you!
Oh, friend. Thank you! You bless my ever-seeking, never-knowing-that-I’ve-done-enough mama’s heart. You are such a gift to us.
Oh honey, I just love every thing about this story. I love the way you tell it as a mama who’s able to get down small and enter the world of her kids, at any age. I love the whims you both share that are special. I love the boxing hippo and especially that beaded envelope that could not have been more perfect for her, which I like to imagine was placed there by a Papa who loves all his kids so fiercely and moves, too, with some of these whims through the day. You are one of the most beautiful mamas I know. And what an amazing way to send Lala off on this new adventure of growing, while still holding space for her to be a little girl. xoxoxo
Oh, honey. I love what you say about God placing that there just for us. It felt exactly like that! It was one of those stirrings — yeah, whims — to stop in, and then there it was…as if it had been waiting for Lala and me all along. What a tender gift to be “seen.”
And you’re right. We are sending her off while holding space for her as our little girl. Always. Always. Always. A lot like our heavenly Papa, too, right?
I love you, dear friend.
What a treasure! A treasure of a memory (for both of you), a treasure of a story, a treasure of a sweet little person, and a treasure of a mommy. You do good work, mom.
Oh, Becky. You bless me, mama.
What a beautiful way to spend your day prior to L’s first day of school. Love the photos! Even though retired, I still pray for children going back to school, especially those who are afraid. I remember countless students expressing their fears – many in Kindergarten with crocodile tears their first day in P.E. Yours did well, and her last day with you eased the transition, no doubt :-)
Isn’t that just like you, dear and thoughtful Deb? To pray for all those little ones and, I imagine, come alongside all those sweethearts in just the right way all those years you taught yourself. Though my little one has done remarkably well with her adjustment, I’ve cried more than once this year with other mamas sending off their teary sweethearts. It’s so hard to see. That dear tenderness and love just breaks me. Thank you for prayers, friend.
This post reminds me of the deep, deep joy and privilege found in motherhood. We are so imperfect, yet the perfect ones for the job … because He made it that way. xoxox
What truth. A joy and a privilege indeed. Thank you, Anna.