Wednesday, December 5, 2012

I Might Actually Be Doing It

This week Peabody started a new preschool because the wonderful school both of the kids have attended for a combined total of just shy of five years closed its doors. I have done my share of crying over this, as any mother who'd found a place and people to whom she could joyfully hand her children over and walk away for a few hours a week would at such news. My heart broke when I read the closure email, and has broken several times over in its wake, as I've hugged teachers and helped move boxes and signed my initials on the sign-out sheet one last time, and said a final Goodbye as I walked, Peabody's hand in mine, through the warm vestibule and out into the unknown.

And suddenly this week, New School Week, we're walking into the lobby of the familiar park district building, past signs that used to point us to the mother-baby and then mother-toddler music classes and around the corner, into preschool wing, and his green-mittened hand curls into mine, then out. And he's running, and he's ready, my boy. Ready to go be Peabody in a completely new world. In my mind I'm running behind him to catch up and understand how he's making this transition just like that.

Often I look at him and see myself. Often I feel my own reservations and fears and insecurities in this boy who's ever so much just a short me with a round fuzzy head. Sometimes I feel broken by the mistakes I make against him which are also against my little self, and I think How? How do I parent him to fix what broke in me, so he flies where once I crawled, so he is chin up and grins where once I was floor-stare and sad-eyes?

And today I marvel at his easy face, his bouncy steps, his lively chatter, those confident shoulders and that gorgeous fuzzy head held high and swiveling this way, that way, bent in towards his new teacher, bent in towards just everything, and comfortable in a way I have only ever wished for myself, and I realize, by the grace of God, I might actually be doing it.

I do love a boy in a red vest. Sigh.

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  1. What a beautiful post, mama!!! It gave me chills and choked me up a little. : )

  2. I wonder the same things, every day!


  3. my friend you are doing an amazing job with both of your kids. This mothering job is something else! It's scary as there is no manual, but just by watching your pictures it's obvious that you are wading through the muddy waters just fine!!

  4. "How? How do I parent him to fix what broke in me, so he flies where once I crawled, so he is chin up and grins where once I was floor-stare and sad-eyes?"

    Friend, I hope you never, ever stop writing reflections like this. These words, they cut right through and my throat tightens and from the other side of the screen, I can only whisper Yes.

    And yes, by the grace of God, you are doing it. Every day.

    Love this. Love you.

  5. Beautiful post, Megan. I'm thankful that my children are doing amazingly well, despite all of the wounds and scars I carry...

  6. These "Ah, ha, God is answering my prayers!" moments are some of the most rewarding in parenting and in our relationship with Him. Strong work Mama.

  7. I am thinking these same things, as I watch my oldest two soar -- they are somehow able to do things that would've made me crawl in a hole when I was their age. It's amazing, and as you said, only by the grace of God.

  8. I read every single thing you write. And I always want to comment, but I can never think of anything to say that comes close to matching what I feel.

    So I'll just say I love you lots. And I have the same fears about Riley, who is very much me in small, boy form. It's terrifying and wonderful, and you're an amazing mother. I can feel it from here, so I can only imagine how strong that feeling must be for your littles.