Baby Bird Can Fly

Yesterday was my son’s first day of preschool. I have never simultaneously looked forward to and dreaded something this way before. All week I have been excited for him, because I know he loves playing with other kids. I have also had moments of the “Oh no. We’ve made a mistake!” sheer panic that mommies feel when we have to let our babies make their own way in the world, even if only for a few hours. (For the parents among us, let me put it this way: I was Nemo’s father this week. I know you understand me now.)

My son Miles reached a point about six months ago where it became apparent to us that he needed more social stimulation than I feel comfortable giving him. I’m painfully shy and don’t know a lot of people. We moved here over two years ago, but the lifestyle of a new mother is not really conducive to making a lot of friends unless you are willing to really put yourself out there. I am just not outgoing enough to do this. I long ago accepted this personal quirk (they aren’t flaws! They’re quirks, darn it!), but it is unacceptable for me to share it with my child. The boy needs friends.

This shouldn’t be a problem. Miles obviously takes after his very social father. He is one of those gregarious little kids who walks up to absolutely everyone we see, to say, “Hi. I’m Miles. What’s your name?” Sometimes this quality forces me out of my shell, and I soon find myself engaged in conversation with a stranger I might have merely smiled and nodded at as we passed. Sometimes, like yesterday on a neighborhood walk, it means we’re standing uncomfortably in a bachelor’s garage watching him drink a beer and smoke a cigarette. Miles doesn’t discriminate based on appearance or an obvious lack of desire to chat with a two-year-old. He’s going in, people- look out! You will be smiling today, whether you thought you felt like it or not. You might even get a hug, just because. I sometimes think I have a lot to learn from my pure-hearted little boy.

He has known his shapes and colors since around fifteen months, and the alphabet soon followed. He can count to fifteen and we’re headed for twenty. We work with flashcards, Play-Doh, explore the backyard and color with crayons… and then I wonder how in the heck I’m going to entertain him for the six hours left until the Fun One (Daddy) gets home from work. He’s smart, and he’s bored without siblings or consistent friends, so we decided that a Mother’s Day Out program at a local church twice a week would be just the thing to give him a little more social interaction and a different type of mental stimulation.

We found a great school through one of my husband’s friends who has a little boy the same age as Miles. We mentioned the preschool idea to our pediatrician, and discovered that she’d sent all three of her sons through the same program, with stellar results. When we toured the preschool, we watched the children having art, music and Spanish lessons, and I was sold. We requested that Miles be in the same class as the son of our friends, paid our tuition, and waited five months for the next semester.

The long wait to start gave me plenty of time to prepare Miles for his upcoming adventure, and I have been talking about all of the fun things that await him in preschool, trying to get him excited. The promise of new playgrounds and other little boys to play cars with seemed the most appealing to him. It seemed really appealing to me, as I find rolling cars around on the floors with him to be one of the most tedious chores of motherhood, although I’m told by mothers of girls that playing dollies for hours on end can drive one a bit mad as well. (Please enjoy my accidental pun. Drive one mad? Get it? Sorry.)

David and I went to a “Meet the Teachers” open house the day before preschool started, and wouldn’t you know it, every one of the boys, including my own, immediately grabbed a plastic car. They began driving them all over the floors together, in a cute little herd of boy-ness. I noticed that one little guy was a big fan of crashing the cars into each other. My son was the only one trying to make his car have conversations with the other cars. (Miles wiggling car at other boy’s car: “Hi! What’s your name?” Other boy: Blank stare.) I leaned over to my husband and griped, “Great. I’ve been doing it wrong. I play with cars like a girl. I’ve accidentally taught our son to play dollies with cars!”

I was pleased that one of Miles’ teachers was of Asian descent, because I really don’t want him to grow up with the same inaccurate snapshot of our country’s diversity that I did, in my small Midwestern town. When I moved to Los Angeles, it was honestly the first time in my life this Missouri/Kansas kid had been the minority anywhere, and it was a really good, mind-opening experience for that reason. But it also made me determined that my own child will be exposed to a larger variety of people- and learn Spanish- if at all possible.

Plus, different cultures are just interesting and fun. What a boring world it would be if we were all the same. He actually hugged his teacher goodbye when we left, and I can’t tell you how much that soothed my mommy turmoil. I knew that he felt comfortable enough to turn to this woman for comfort in my absence the next day, and it helped me so much.

I have been acting out practice goodbye sessions with Miles at home the last two weeks, trying to psychologically prepare him for his first time in the care of strangers. We don’t have a babysitter, and the only people who have ever watched him in our absence have been his Gammie, Grandad, Aunt Grancy and Uncle Super Dave, so I felt it was important to mentally prepare him for this situation.

“Okay, Miles. Soon I’m going to take you to preschool to have fun, and leave you there until I come back to pick you up later. Let’s practice how we will say goodbye,” I’d say.

“Okay, Mommy,” he would say.

Our practice sessions consisted of us performing this skit in our living room:

Mom walks up to son. “Have a good day at preschool. I love you.”

Mom gives him a hug and a kiss.

Son replies, “I love you too! Bye-bye, Mommy!”

Mom walks away to another part of the house.

The End.

Completely goofy, I know. But I’ll be darned if it didn’t work. Perfectly.

I was a nervous wreck yesterday morning. Complete with stress-induced stomach issues a lady doesn’t discuss. But don’t worry; I won’t discuss them here either.

When we got to the classroom, the teacher showed me where Miles’ cubby was located for storing his nap pad and diaper bag, and where to put his lunch.

The Big Goodbye arrived, and I walked over to Miles, who was already completely engrossed in a toy. I gave him a kiss on the head, and a hug from behind, because he wouldn’t turn around from the toy on the table that he was bent over. I said, “Bye-bye honey,” and I felt the tears about to form in my eyes, voice hitching a little on “honey.”

My two-year-old son raised his arm over his head like a surly teenager and gave me the “You’re dismissed, Boring One,” wave with a chipper little, “Bye-bye, Mommy!” just like we practiced.

He didn’t even offer me a backward glance. It was actually easier than I thought. His nonchalance about the whole thing completely erased my nerves. “Well if he’s okay, then, I guess I am too… right?” He was so cool about it that I felt silly for being worried.

The teacher he’d bonded with at the open house immediately crouched down to play with Miles, and to make the transition easier for me. (I want to write that she did it for him, but I’d be lying. The kid was absolutely fine.) I said, “Thank you,” to her in my most grateful voice, and got out of there as quickly as possible, per their previous instructions.

I walked to my car dry-eyed and feeling pretty good about the whole thing. I didn’t even cry! I couldn’t believe it! I got on the highway home, still doing fine, and was almost to my exit when the combination of great relief and built-up worry hit me. Bam! Suddenly, there I was, drivin’ and cryin’ down the Oklahoma highway, like a bad country song. A cliché on wheels.

I wanted to buy a Happy First Day of Preschool toy to further reinforce preschool as a positive experience for the kiddo (I’m one semester away from a psychology degree- can you tell?), so I pulled into the store parking lot. I sat there, trying to pull myself together, but instead sobbing for a few minutes. I guess letting baby birds leave the nest is hard the first time, whether your baby bird notices he has done so or not.

My cell phone rang and I nearly jumped out of the car trying to answer it. I dropped it, and then scrambled to pick it up. I was sure it was the preschool calling to tell me my son was inconsolable, and please come get him. Ridiculous, I know, but I was in a “dramatic” state of mind at the moment, sue me.

It was my husband calling to see how it went. I told him I was sobbing in a store parking lot presently, but that I kept it together in front of the boy child. He laughed at me and got me laughing, like he does, so that I was done with my ugly cry and ready to toy shop. Good man.

I brought the new little fire engine I found for Miles with me when I drove to pick him up in the afternoon. Folks, I ended up having to use it as bribery to get him to leave preschool. He didn’t want to come with me, and ran back into the arms of the Other Woman (his teacher) saying, “More, please! More, please!” and, “I don’t want to leave!”

He started to throw a full-scale fit, and I had to threaten to carry him (he hates being carried because, as he will scream, he is NOTABABY). I mentioned the new toy waiting in the car and soon he was dragging me there. (Yes, I am not above bribery. Bribery and I are right there at the same level, having a beer together and toasting to children who do what we want. We’re totally BFF, Bribery and me.)

His teacher complimented me on how polite he is, and that he always says please and thank you. “We can tell you’ve taught him lots of good manners,” was also noted on the written Daily Report sent home with him, as well as the fact that he pushed his chair back to the table after lunch. That’s my boy! His teacher wrote: “The best part is that he said ‘I love you,’ to me. It touched my heart. I love him, too.” How awesome is that? The sweet little guy is already charming his teachers. (He gets it from his daddy. I can’t take any credit for that.)

So we had an excellent first day of preschool. I understand that often the first time is a breeze, but the subsequent drop-offs are harder because they now realize Mommy will be gone for a few hours, but his reluctance to leave the place makes me feel hopeful.

Rather than being miffed that he didn’t want to come with me at the end of his first day, I am instead going to look it optimistically- as a sign that he is just a confident and secure little fellow who knows that no matter where he is in the world, he can trust that I will always be there for him at the end of the day- so leaving me is no big deal. (You can call it a bunch of baloney, but that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Sticking. To. It.)

I also think that his grandparents have a lot to do with his positive attitude about away-from-Mommy time. Every time they take him away to play at their house, he has such a good time that he has no reason to associate anything but joy with leaving Mommy. What a beautiful thing. We’re so lucky to have them.

I feel like preschool is going to open up a whole new world of friends, learning and fun for my son, and I am so pleased that we took the step. It feels very right, like we’re giving him a new adventure and a happy childhood.

I hope you are having a happy childhood today, too, friends and family.

His first lunch box!

His first work of art!

He was so proud when we put it on the refrigerator.

So was his mommy.