The day my heart broke a little ...

...and grew a lot.

This big boy here had trouble deciding what to eat for breakfast this morning. He ran back and jumped on his bed. I asked if he was excited about the day ahead or nervous. He answered, "A little nervous, a little excited". I assured him that I felt the same way. Then, "Will you cry Mummy?". "I'll try my best not to," I replied, too scared to commit to something I doubted I could fulfill. I added that if I did, it would only be because I'm so proud of him. I asked if he thought he would cry and he told me softly, "I'm not sure".  I wrapped my arms around him, my head resting on his shoulder, so that he couldn't see the tears punching at my eyelids. I must have disguised my pain well enough for a breakfast choice to be made.

His appetite was small, mine non-existent.

All the while I was worrying, "Is he prepared well enough?", "What pitfalls lay before him?", "How can I be doing this to him?". And then I forced a deep breath and chanted, "It'll all be okay", over and over again as I fed children, brushed teeth and hair, double-checked his enormous backpack, until I almost half-believed it.

We arrived in perfect time and climbed the stairs to his first classroom. You may know the familiar and stomach-churning sensation of farewelling a loved one at the airport.  That's what it was like.

My big boy clutched my hand, in silence, as we found the place to put his bag and chose an activity. I pointed out the children he already knew and he began to relax, a little.  I think this photo really sums it up though. I suspect my face looked the same.  Brows slightly furrowed, stiff smile, tense knuckles.

I kissed him, "on the forehead Mummy". And bravely left him in the, I'm sure, very capable care of his new teacher.  Shoulders back, head held high I walked out and left him there...  I am not really sure how I did.

 I could easily have been sick.

I managed to make it to the very thoughtfully organised, Tea & Sympathy morning, in the park, across the road and every now and then wondered how my beautiful son was coping.  In my heart of hearts I knew he would be fine. 

This is really just about me not coping well.  He's been my constant buddy for 5 years now, you know? 

I passed my time with the dreaded ironing pile while Woo slept and was thrilled to see the long hand tick closer and closer to 12.30 pm before happily putting the baby in the car and driving back to collect him.

Now the feeling in my tummy is of joy flipping in excited anticipation.  You know, the one of waiting in the arrival hall for a loved one who you've been separated from for too long?

  And there is my handsome, clever, brave and well prepared big boy.  Backpack swinging, smiley face, happy to kiss me on the lips this time.  Ah, the relief!  I think I inhaled properly for the first time all day. 

We did it.  My boy and me.  We both managed, him admirably, and I'm sure tomorrow will be easier for everyone.

By the way did you know "Spot goes to school.  I go to school"?  Or so his little ticked worksheet tells me! 

E x - exhausted and overwhelmed.