I have a pair of shoes that aren’t mine. They’re black and green, toddler boy size 8. The shoes aren’t new. In fact, they’ve been through it all. From race tracks and train rides to dirt piles galore. They’ve scaled fences and shelves, staircase rails and shopping carts. They’re as fast a a race car and even have an automatic backup beeper. While these shoes are a frequent perpetrator of the word “stop”, I hold them close to my heart.
Those shoes are his preschool shoes. They see and hear my baby learning and growing when I can’t. They hold uncertain feet along with the “I’m so glad your back, mommy!” feet during the first weeks of school. And now, after almost two months of school, they hold the feet of a thirsty learner.
I see new scuffs, wrinkles, and dried play dough stuck on the bottom that remind me of moments I didn’t get to see. Moments that were shared with new teachers and friends.
There are some school days where a black and green shoe will pair up with a blue shoe to carry out the demands of preschool. Those days are some of my favorites. And on other days, the owner attempts to throw discretion at mommy and daddy’s rules and the shoes usually find themselves looking at the wall and promptly kissing a corner.
Although I feel a little silly putting much emotion into a pair of shoes, I understand that my heart is working through a big transition. You know, the one where you gradually let go of the slowest days you have with your kiddos. And by “slowest”, I mean the time from first meeting your baby to kindergarten. Ugh, time is a thief.
So while these shoes tighten their grip, I am loosening mine. It’s okay to cry when they cry for you as you drop them off. It’s okay to cry all the way home after drop off and throughout the day. It’s okay to cry when you fold up their newborn onesie that baby brother will wear. We all swallow the lumps in our throats differently. And for me, it’s looking at his preschool shoes.
To the moms who are sending their babies off to school for the first time this year, I wish you an understanding shoulder to cry on and a sensitive environment that will support this transition. Oh, and chocolate. Lot’s of chocolate!
Hugs! <3
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