I don’t know what was worse this week … the threat of a category 3 hurricane remodeling the house … or my daughter going off to kindergarten.
Which is exactly what she’s doing this week. Just like all the other little ones across the county. Done with pre-school, and now graduated into the big leagues. Elementary school.
ELEMENTARY school.
ELEMENTARY SCHOOL!!!
How did this happen? One minute diapers … the next minute chubby pencils and Elmer’s glue gobs everywhere? How do I have a kindergartner?
And how is she OK with it? Because I’m not. I’m freakin’ out. All the things running through my head. Will she make new friends? Will she do well and start a multinational corporation by age 8 so I can retire and eat cheese all day? Will her getting older mean that I keep getting older? Will she be nervous … or am I the only one peeing my pants?
I mean, of course she’ll be fine. But what is a parent if not irrational and full of ridiculous fears? (What if right after I leave aliens come down looking for children to populate intergalactic sweat shops? Should I tie some rope around her ankle?)
She doesn’t seem that nervous. She seems to be handling things just fine. Because she’s a kid. Kids get nervous, but they’re also wonderfully adaptive and resilient. Join a biker gang and ride off to Utah? Well … you’ve got sprinkle cookies, right? VROOM-VROOM!
But parents? No, we need some time for adjusting. To get used to an idea — a big change like this. We’re a bunch of nervous nellies. All panicked and philosophical.
Tears welling up in our eyes. We say things like, “You’re not a baby anymore” and “Please! Just try on this diaper for old time’s sake.”For us new kindergarten parents it’s also tough because it means we’re on the low end of the totem pole again … the buttocks. It’s like we’re freshman.
Last year, we were the pros — the seniors. The experienced parents in the 4-year-old pre-school classes. Parents in the younger grades looked up to us — like we knew the world and how to navigate it. We gave advice and consoled newbies on the first day of school. “Don’t worry. It gets easier,” we said. “No, they won’t cry the WHOLE day … just most of it,” we said.
But kindergarten is a whole new world — totally alien. New rules. New school supplies. New ways to drop-off and pickup kids. We got a map on this. My wife and I walked it and have discussed it with military precision. All the different scenarios. I still don’t understand it. In fact, I’m hoping to come up with enough excuses to get out of it for all six years.
To a freshman parent, school drop off sounds so complex and intimidating. And our kids aren’t used to getting in and out of a car quickly. Not on deadline. Not when there is a line of beeping cars 8 miles long behind you, all screaming, “Move it, newbie!”
Because our kids aren’t experienced. They move at the speed of dripping peanut butter. Getting in and out of a car is like a seven-course meal. It comes in stages.
It’s meant to be enjoyed and savored. It has lots of breaks. Getting in and out of the car can take 18 hours … especially if you notice a smudge on the window that looks like a favorite cartoon character.
And who wants to be that freaked out parent in a line of cars screaming, “I don’t CARE if it looks like Uniqua! You’ve got to get your butt in this car RIGHT NOW!!!!”?
Other parents are gonna’ throw spears.
We all go through it, don’t we? And somehow we survive. And what is life besides a bunch of new experiences? That’s what makes it fun and interesting.
That’s what I’m telling myself. And maybe someone will read this piece and take pity on us poor, panicked “freshmen” in the drop-off lanes … especially when we start screaming, “My baby’s grown up and left me!”