To every mama in a season of transition,

YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE IT.

When people ask my husband and I, HOW ARE YOU DOING, we often reply with a phrase that we once heard someone say in passing.

"We are in the weeds right now.”

We are currently living in the reality of two toddlers and a baby - which means we are on call 24 hours a day to feed, change, clean, dress, chase, cuddle, and love. We are both physically and emotionally exhausted - living on galloons of coffee and constantly praying that our endless efforts produce quality human beings. We are in the thick of holding onto the promise that it will get easier and that one day we will sleep through the night, even though that such reality looks like a promise that won’t actually come to pass.

But tomorrow, we are adding change to our routine of consistently inconsistent chaos. We are welcoming a new friend into our family, and their name is preschool. Preschool has always been a mythical land where someone else assumes full responsibility of raising your child, but until now this magical place only existed in my dreams.

Yet, somehow here we are with a new lego lunchbox, a fresh wardrobe, a backpack full of school supplies, and there at the door knocking is preschool - ready to whisk my sweet first born into a world where his needs will be met by other adults, life lessons will be learned in the sandbox, and mommy and daddy (who will soon become just mom and dad), will be one of many voices shaping and leading this little life.

Although the dreams, promises, and ideals of preschool have not prepared me for the actuality and emotional turmoil that is accompanying him on his path of independence. In the most basic terms, I AM NOT READY. Our summer of transitional excitement has suddenly transformed into tears of fear streaming down my face.

What if he isn’t ready?

What if the teachers don’t know how to help him in his moments of frustration and sensitivity?

What if another kid is mean to him, or even worse, what is he is mean to someone else?

Will he look for opportunities to show love and kindness to those around him who are lonely, and will he be a helpful assistant to his teacher?

Will he see within himself that he is a natural born leader who create a classroom where everyone is better because he is there?

Will he always do the right thing, use his words to encourage and advocate, and will he have grace upon himself and enough courage within to learn, grow, and change?

Frankly, I do not know. I can’t foretell what everyday in preschool is going to look like for him. All I can do is hope and pray that his school with benefit because he is apart of it.

So for now, I will wipe away my tears of worry and replace them with these words of affirmation: 

My beautiful boy was created for this day.

And tomorrow, I will put on my biggest smile, give him my best hug, and I will proudly march alongside my son into his classroom, and give him every ounce of praise and encouragement I can think of. I will not longer be his only teacher, but you better believe that I will be his biggest cheerleader.

Then I will get into my car, cry until I am out of tears, and I will drive away having left a piece of my heart in the hands of someone else.

I will spend my day remembering these two very important ideas…

First, without seasons of change, we will never have seasons of growth. 

Both he and I desperately need this. I can’t live as a mother of two toddlers and a baby forever. This is just the beginning of a life with my family full of far more incredible times than I have the eyes to envision, but if I continue to carry around the belongings and battles of today, my hands won’t be able to receive the newness that comes with tomorrow. All of these longs days, but short years of raising, teaching, showing, loving and growing him are also going to preschool with him, and even though I may not feel ready, he is.

Secondly, even though my son’s reality is about to expand, my position in it doesn’t change. 

He may now look to someone else to teach him his ABC’s and 123’S, but I am still his mama. I am the one who first loved him, carried him, planned and made a way for him. His love for his new teachers and friends will not take away from his love for me, instead it’ll make our time together sweeter and our love deeper.

I am confident that the best part of my tomorrow will be pick-up. Secretly, I am hoping that he goes on to tell me how terrible his day was without me, and that he begs me to come to preschool with him from now on, (which I totally would do), but more realistically I will hear about new friends, new teachers, new toys, and what he played during recess. His joy is going to be contagious, and soon enough I will be excitedly waiting for the next day of preschool with him, and in turn I will be accepting this next stage of motherhood.

So here’s to us. Here is to all the parents who are waking up tomorrow and walking a piece of their heart into preschool, college, down the wedding aisle, or into a hospital room about to give birth to their own world changer.

We may not be ready, but our bundle of joy was created for this very day.

Every sleepless night, every passed up opportunity, every sacrifice, every prayer, every hug and kiss, and every word of wisdom that you gave was worth it.

Every battle and victory that got you here today, every hope and dream, every belief in better and greater have all mattered.

 

So tomorrow, you walk tall and proud. Wipe away the tears and replace them with joy. Live with more grace upon yourself, and faith that the good Lord is walking into that classroom too. And friend, after you drive away, breathe deep, say a prayer of thanks, and pull into the nearest Starbucks and spend $4.99 to celebrate you, because today is a day of victory. You made it!