Today – he’s went off to preschool, taking that first big, big step towards independence. And I’m a mess.
My girls love me, adore me, need me desperately – but Sam has always been on a different level. He came out of the womb with separation anxiety and it’s not really a big exaggeration when I say that for the first two years of his life, if he wasn’t with me, he was sobbing like his heart was broken. I joke with Marc that nobody loves me like Sammy loves me. Not with that same intensity, that same holy moly my life is complete now that you are here with me type of emotion. He nursed non-stop until he was almost four. All his life, he’s been my buddy, my shadow, and I’m a complete wreck now that he’s off at school without me.
I glued a smile on my face all morning, packed his bag, wrote him a little love note. I got him dressed and assured him that he’d LOVE preschool. He was going to have so many new friends, learn so many new things. It would be fun and exciting and he’d be so happy there. And it was just a short class, and Mommy would be right there to pick him up afterwards.
I dragged him out to the car, and lugged him over to where the other kids were lining up. And he didn’t start crying until it was time to go off with his teacher. His teacher wanted the moms and dads to say goodbye before they left go from the library to the classroom, but Sam wasn’t having any part of happily saying goodbye and going off with this stranger. So we decided that one parent would walk him to the classroom and say goodbye. Make the transition easier. In theory.
Thank goodness for Marc, because there’s NO WAY I could have done it. Sam sobbed thru the whole thing. As did I. I held it together, smile glued to my face, until he disappeared thru the doors – but then I cried the whole way home.
I hate preschool.