My guest post today comes from Nichole of In These Small Moments. Nichole and I met via twitter and quickly bonded over trying to do the Couch to 5k program. She asked me to submit a post for her Small Moment Mondays that she does on her blog, and I jumped at the chance! I love Nichole's fierce protectiveness she has for her children and her genuinely kind and lovely soul. She is probably one of the sweetest people I have met in the internet world. She is hilarious too! So you throw all of that together plus the fact that she is a brilliant writer, and you have one of my favorite bloggers and friends! You should definitely visit her blog, and of course follow her on twitter.
Nichole has a 3 year old daughter named Katie (great name!) who attends speech therapy. Here is her heartbreaking take on what letting go of your first born to school means.
The First Day of School
The first day of school has come far earlier than I ever anticipated it would.
Katie began receiving her weekly speech therapy sessions at the local elementary school today. While she's technically not a student yet, this sure felt like the first day of school.
She still likes to snuggle in my lap.
I was a mess about bringing her and dropping her off. Though she's had speech therapy since she was itty bitty, it has always been in our home, where I could see and hear everything.
Today, I had to walk her to her classroom. And leave.
Her tiny hand still fits almost completely in my palm. She's just a baby.
Since we found out that she would be transitioning to the school, I have been feeling waves of anxiety. Huge waves. Tsunami waves.
What am I afraid of exactly?
She still uses strawberry flavored toothpaste.
Well, this is going to sound crazy, but I haven't been away from my kids much. I can count on four fingers the number of people who have cared for them in our absence. And Katie? She's three and a half.
She still calls me "Mommy."
So, now I was being asked to drop her off at a school and leave her with near strangers.
So, we had the talk. The talk that no one wants to have with their daughter.
We had the Vagina Talk.
Here's how it went:
Me: Katie, are you getting excited about going to the school to spend time with Miss N.?
Katie: Yes, and to play with other kids.
Craig: Mommy and Daddy will be dropping you off and then we'll come back later and pick you up, okay?
Me: You'll be just fine and we'll be right outside (read: at home).
Me (never so great with the transitions): Katie, who is allowed to touch your vagina?
(This isn't the first time that we've had this conversation with her and every time we do, she looks us like we've completely lost our minds. Since no one has ever asked to see her vagina, she clearly can't figure out why this is such a big deal to us.)
Katie (without even thinking about it): "Mommy, Daddy, Katie, and Dr. D. when Mommy and Daddy are there."
If something ever happened to her, I would die inside.
Craig: And if someone did try to touch you, Katie, what would you say?
Katie: I would say, really, really loud, "NO!"
If someone ever touched her, Craig would die inside.
Me: And what else would you do?
Katie: Tell Mommy and Daddy.
I resisted the urge to continue drilling her, for fear of scaring her. I'm not sure how much reassurance that she understands would be enough to put my mind at ease.
So, now marks the beginning of a time we have to trust that we've taught her the things that she needs to know. It just seems like there are still so many lessons she has yet to learn.