Doomsday Prep

If the Zombie Apocalypse were to occur tomorrow I think I could account for the canned goods, bottled water, and basic weaponry to ward off my undead enemies. I used to pride myself on my preparation skills. As a Type A personality, it is in my DNA. Naturally, motherhood has certainly thrown me many curve balls along the way and over the years I have learned to accept the fact that plans can easily be cast aside with tantrums in Target or a deficit of diapers on my person, but, for the most part, I have still managed to keep life in working order overall. I am not so confident in those skills anymore though. Sending my firstborn off to Kindergarten presented me with scenarios that nothing could have truly prepared me for.

We have read Mrs. Bindergarten to the point of memorization. We have practiced bus safety and attended informational meetings. We have perfected basic skills in at-home workbooks. We have explored the classroom at orientation. We have walked to the school and played on the playground to create a sense of ownership. We have discussed the changes in routines that were going to take place. We have talked about our feelings and expectations for what was ahead on this new educational horizon. We have stuffed the backpack, selected our outfits, meal planned for week, and set the alarm clocks.  All of this, in preparation.

Within my own mind, I had taken the time to process how going to kindergarten was going to effect Caiden. He would be excited for the most part, but certainly have a bit of nervousness with regard to being in a new environment. In addition, I took the time to process how it was going to effect me. I expected a sense of sadness as my firstborn stepped onto the school bus for the first time-- entrusting someone else to drive my most precious cargo off to a full-day program in which I wouldn't know the details of. I expected a sense of pride to well up inside simultaneously as he confidently took those massive first steps into public education. I expected the long hours to slowly tick away on his first day as I anxiously awaited his return with the high hopes that he would be able to tell me about this major milestone. (I also expected that this last expectation would really only consist of what he ate for lunch and the fact that he played trains at some point in the day.)

What I never took into consideration, however, was how this benchmark in Caiden's life would deeply affect Ryan. In a matter of minutes, once the bus departed, my middle child began asking when his big brother was going to come home. Throughout the day he ran to the door each time a landscaping, delivery,or dump truck roared past the house. He was desperate for his favorite playmate to return. At one point, he curled up in my lap with a rarely displayed look of forlorn on his face. I didn't prepare for the fact that on this high occasion for one child, another would be missing his best friend for the majority of his waking hours.

What I never took into consideration was the fact that my husband's work/sleep schedule would completely diverge that of a normal school day.  From now on, for the most part, five days out of the week, father and eldest son would only share the dinner hour together-- if that.

What I never took into consideration was the loss of impulsive excursions. That in, a melodramatic sense, "life as we knew it was over". Until summer vacation, our days would be dictated by the academic calendar and gone were the days of random park outings, picnics and road trips as a complete family unit.

What I never took into consideration was the QUIET. Granted, I still have two children at home. But the noise made by a 6-week-old and a 2-year-old pales in comparison to that of a 6-week-old, 2-year-old and a 5-year-old. (I am prepared for the fact that, in the months to come, as Mikey becomes more active this will change-- but still, it won't be the same...)

And yet, as I mourn the loss of a life that I had become so accustomed to knowing, I celebrate many things. We are entering a new phase in parenthood. No longer are we "newbies" to raising babies-- we, although fledgling, are raising "school-aged children". Playdates will morph into PTO meetings. Spontaneous adventures will morph into sports schedules. Free time and family time will taste so much sweeter. I also celebrate the fact that my other boys will gain some long overdue and greatly deserved one-on-one time with me at home. I look forward to learning about them the same way that I got to learn about Caiden when he was an only child. I celebrate watching Ryan blossom even more as he begins preschool in a few weeks. I celebrate the ability to grocery shop with only one kid in tow again.

Yes, the past few days have made me painfully aware of the fact that even I am not the most prepared at all times. But it has also reminded me that with great change comes the opportunity to appreciate how far you have come and, more importantly, look forward to where you are going.