Learn the story behind this picture here.
It happened. I don't know how. I don't know when. But my baby has become a boy, strong and smart and caring. He has his own ideas, his own style, his own way (boy does he ever have his own way ;). And now he has his own space. A space separate from me, from our home. I love his new space. I know he will thrive and flourish in this space, but we were inseparable for 9 months and then seldom apart for nearly 5 years after that and now we spend large parts of our everyday with little knowledge of what the other is doing, thinking or feeling. On the car ride home from school he giggles and rolls his eyes as I grill him like a drill sergeant about what he did, who he played with, how he felt during the day, etc.
As we begin our school journey I am surprised by my comfort in it all. I believe that he is where he is meant to be. You see, there was a very small chance (18 spots for 198 applicants) that he would literally win the lottery and be admitted into this loving school family. But win the lottery he did, we did. And now he is right where he is supposed to be - in kindergarten.
I enter this chapter with a smile in my heart because I know that he is ready and strong and able. I know that he is being nurtured and respected while he is away from me. Still, I think it is only natural that I have fears. I have the normal fears about safety and mean kids and long days, but I am just now realizing that my biggest fear lies within myself. My biggest fear is that I will fail my kindergartner. That I am not ready for this responsibility. That I will not know how to support him at the end of those very long days. That I will not spend enough time in his classroom because I have two other babies at home. Or that I will forget an important school assignment or event. This is not his journey it is our journey and he will need my love, my embrace and my steady hand to help guide him. I'm sure I will drop the ball now and then, but he has the support of his siblings, his incredible father, and some really caring friends and family to lift him up and walk beside him when he needs it most. I love you, Leon. You are bright and empathetic and strong-willed and athletic. You are a part of me, and I you, and I am with you every morning when you walk through those big glass doors.
I know I owe you a birth story, but I just haven't had a chance to polish it yet between starting kindergarten, the hubby being sick, and preparing for this weekend's craft fair. I'll post it next week polished or not.