To My Daughter, On Her First Week of Kindergarten

My dearest Jenna,

Well, we survived the first week of kindergarten. Mommy was a nervous wreck, but you were amazing. Your excitement and enthusiasm, once again, over-rode your nervousness. We were able to go to your open house day together, and meet your teacher and see your classroom. While we were there I caught glimpses of the shy, quiet girl that you have always been. But I also saw another side of you beginning to emerge. Your many pre-school experiences have given you a certain wisdom of what school is, what to expect, and what things mean. You've already achieved many of the academic skills that will be worked on during this first year of school, but it's obvious that the social interaction and time with kids your own age will be of great value to you. You're a social girl. You love other kids, and I'm sure that you'll be making many, many new friends in kindergarten.

The first few days of you being gone from home during the day have been strange. Although you're the quietest and most mild-mannered of my children, the house was strangely quiet without you around. I guess it's going to take some time for all of us to get used to this new stage in all of our lives. Kara and Jack will be learning to play together more, and mommy will be getting used to doing without all of the help and companionship you have always offered me during the day.

As worried as I was about you riding the bus to school, you once again amazed me. I could hardly believe that the same little girl that cried about riding a bus on a field trip without me last year was so excited and brave about riding the bus to school this week. You met some little girls in the neighborhood on the bus stop the first morning, and held their hands and hopped on the bus with them without so much as a glance back at me. It's probably a good thing because you weren't able to see the tears welling up in my eyes.

It is with great sadness that I watch you begin your journey in school . . . your journey into becoming a "big kid" . . . your journey into independence. My heart hurts to think that your baby days are over, and I'm going to be spending more and more time watching you go about your life and not needing my help. You don't need me to drive you to school anymore, you don't need me to hold your hand as you enter the school each day. You're starting to roll your eyes at me, call me "moooooommmm" in an exasperated, "big kid" way that I'm not ready to hear. You're already evasive when I ask you about your day at school, and you've already corrected me on more than one occasion and told me that your teacher said it was okay. Sigh.

I think I've finally put my finger on the pulse of my sadness. I've figured out why this is such a difficult milestone for me to watch you achieve. It's because for the first time in your life, I'm giving up some of my control over the things you do, the people you're with, and the things you're learning. I'm putting your precious, delicate mind and body into the protection and care of other people that I don't even really know. I'm facing the test that all parents face at this point in their children's lives. I'm needing to have confidence in the fact that I've raised you right and you are ready to go into the world and make good choices, be a good person, and value the opportunities of education. I've had to allow myself to say, for the first time in 5 years, that I'm a good mother. I've been a good mother to you. I've given you all that a mommy could give, and I have no regrets about the way we've raised you.

I'm proud of you. I love you. I think the world of you. And now the world gets to meet you too. They're gonna love you!

All my love,
Mommy