My dear Olive,

It’s 5:45 am on August 15th 2018, your first day of kindergarten. This day has always seemed so far away. I don’t think reality has even hit me yet.

My jaw is clenched and my hands are clammy already. Two hours before we leave the house. Your outfit is laying out on the dining room table beside your new hello kitty backpack. Your “first day of kindergarten” sign freshly printed, (because I’m not clever like the chalkboard sign moms) and waiting for pictures. You have money on your lunch card, a snack for the afternoon, and a purple glitter rainbow water bottle. All my boxes are checked but my arms feel like jelly and I’ve been in and out of the bathroom all morning. That’s my polite way of saying I have the nervous shits. I know you’re going to be fine. You love school, and everyone that meets you loves you.

8:15am- Leaving you in the classroom was one of the hardest things I’ve done in my parenting life. I wanted to stay there with you. I wanted to linger. I wanted to introduce myself to everyone like a campaigning politician. I wanted to make friends for you. I wanted to hide in the bathroom, but I didn’t. Daddy and I took one lap around the school and came back to look in your classroom. You were sitting there in your tiny blue chair, just as I’d left you. Quietly, with your hands folded looking lost and confused, my heart broke. It took every bit of will in my soul not to come back in and hug you again. I am trying desperately to give you independence.

I am so confident in you my little love. I have all the faith in the world that you are going to kick kindergartens ass! You are spectacular baby girl. This is the beginning of your education career, and I can’t wait to see you grow and learn. Actually, I could wait. I could use another 5 years to prepare for this. Unfortunately, time has flown by and my perfect little auburn baby has grown into lovely little girl.

With all of that said, I can’t help but feel as though I left my right arm in a classroom filled with 14 other children and one adult, a decade my junior. I hope they all know how special you are. I hope they know that you’re sensitive and a little shy. I hope they know that you are a wonderful friend, and you have the kindest heart in the world. But if they don’t, I’ll be right here hiding in the bathroom to remind them. Lol (That’s a joke), well kind of.

Patiently waiting for 1:30pm, when I will arrive in car line an hour early.

Love,

Mommy