On the eve before preschool

My Facebook feed is littered with back to school photos today of our Virginia friends and families sending their little ones off to school. Brand new lunch boxes and shiny smiles, heartfelt messages from the mommas who are both so excited and also a little heartbroken as every year seems to pass a little more quickly.

We have one more day of having a non-school kid. One more day. And then tomorrow morning, which has come all too soon, we will pack our sweet girl up and, with some tears (probably mine) and a lot of excitement (probably mostly her daddy's) start this next chapter in her childhood.

I know, I know. It is just preschool. RB has remarked several times over the past month if I am this dramatic crazy nostalgic about preschool, I will probably need a strong sedative for when B leaves for Charlottesville. And I get it. This is the logical, prescribed next step. For just a few days a week, not far from our house, she will have an opportunity for new friends and learning. She will explore a safe new environment for a few hours and then return home to us.

Clinging to our last days of summer

But selfishly, I am going to miss our lazy mornings in our jammies, curled up in her bed sleepily reading the books of her choosing. Making breakfast together while we sing to the bad dogs and discuss options for the day. Having her in the backseat of the car to talk about the weather, or traffic, or when we drive by the cow pasture. Seeing her face firsthand as she experiences something new. Witnessing all the joy and wonder that is being three. Just sharing in each moment of her little life. During the day, she is mine and I am hers and it has been like that for three magical years that have been nothing short of a gift.

And, also, with the fear of a mother's heart, I wonder what will happen all day. Whose hand will she grab if she is afraid? Or is not feeling well? What if she calls out for me and I am not there? Will it break her heart or mine more?

The truth is, I have full faith in her teachers and their love for children. And though I know she is brave - probably braver at 3 than I am at 30 - she is still a baby. My baby.

I know it is my job to raise her to leave one day. I want her to grow up strong and confident, excited about all that life can offer, hungry to experience this huge, amazing world around her. I want her to taste, feel, learn, and live to the fullest extent possible. So, with a lot of prayer and a little trepidation, tomorrow we will put on our first day of school outfit. We will kiss the bad dogs goodbye. We will head out, ready for this new adventure.

I am pretty sure, when the first day is over, B will hop into the car bursting to tell me about her new friends and show me what arts and craft she completed that day. If it is anything like Sunday School, she will immediately ask when she can go back and catalog all her new friends for me with big eyes and love in her voice. My heart will sore at her confidence and love of this new adventure. Honestly, it will also probably break a little more too as I realize my baby girl is ready for this next step without me and it is just the very beginning of the steps she will take all on her own.

Much love and prayers to all the mommas and babies (no matter how old) starting a new phase this year. "Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying 'This is the way; walk in it.'" - Isaiah 30:21