All three of my kids started school yesterday.
Yup. All three. For the first time. My daughter is in first grade. My boys in a young 5’s class.
I homeschooled last year. This year, I’m dropping them all off at the curb of the school. All three.
And I cried.
Not in front of them. I know better than that.
But I cried when I was all alone. Driving to Wendy’s to have lunch with a friend who recently dropped her oldest off at college.
If nothing else, I could remember that my kids still live at home, at least.
I cried, hiding behind my sunglass, because…well…
Because this is a first step of letting go. Letting my babies grow up.
They have needed me for everything. Food. Shelter. Shoes needing a double bunny ear knot.
And now they don’t.
And now they are spending time away from my watchful eye. They will make friends that I don’t know. Learn games I didn’t teach them. Sing songs I’ve never heard.
Their lives are becoming…
Independent from me.
It’s another snip of that old umbilical cord.
And that’s wonderful and scary and displacing and exciting.
This is what I’ve raised them for. To go.
And that’s so hard.
And, so, I cried. Because they’re growing and going and I’m so proud of them.
Really. I think that’s just fine.
Today will be easier.