In 4 short months we will send our sweet first born off to high school. And in 4 short months we will send our only girl, our self proclaimed princess, off to kindergarten.
Hope will begin her thirteen year journey of public school education and for Riley high school is the beginning of the end – his last four years of public schooling.
High school means girls will be more prevalent in Riley’s life. It means Riley will learn to drive. I suspect high school will bring late night parties and worrisome nights as I wait up for Riley to come home safe and sound.
Kindergarten will result in new found friendships for Hope. She will learn to read; she will learn about the intricacies of our world; she will learn to live vicariously through fictional characters; and she will finally have her own homework to complete at night.
I have spent countless hours struggling with this impending shift - this phase that finds me sending my independent children off to new schools. Embarking on this journey also finds me battling my desire to shelter my children from suffering - the failed friendships, disappointing mistakes, hard lessons learned, all the cruelness of the real world – but I am reminded of my role as a mother and this new phase brings me back to a lesson I learned when Riley was only 9 months old... a lesson that has changed my perspective and molded my role as a parent of highly independent children who are bound and determined to do things their own way and learn life’s lessons through their own mistakes.
But before I speak of this lesson I must momentarily digress…
I would tell you that having a child in high school makes me feel really, really old… but I would only be lying. When most people first learn that I have a 14 year old their response is always the same: Wide eyes, a clarifying question – "did you mean 14 months or 14 years", followed by a gasp – "oh my goodness, you can’t be old enough to have a teenager! Is he yours or is he a step son?" And finally – "you must have had him when you were 12." Let’s see, apparently that means I look 26. I’ll take that compliment and yes, it makes me very proud to be the mother of a 14 year old and it’s a little thrilling to know I don’t look old enough to play that role.
But I do play that role and I do have a teenager entering high school. And my baby girl is going to kindergarten. As I sat on the bus with Hope at kindergarten orientation (yes, we got to ride the bus together!) listening to her repeatedly ask “How many more days until I can ride this bus by myself?”, I reminisced on Riley’s first day of school and remembered how desperately he wanted to ride the big yellow bus. (Again, I digress in a memory…)
I did not want Riley to ride the bus!
I mean, after all, there were… 5th graders on the bus and having only one child who was only 6, 5th graders seemed like giant alien creatures that could (and probably would, I concluded in my worst case scenario consideration) bully my baby. But Riley persisted… and that led me to only one conclusion. Riley could ride the bus – and I would ride it with him.
We proudly walked to the bus stop on the first day of school – full of anticipation. The big yellow bus approached and Riley raced for the bus without looking back. I followed, only to have the bus driver shut the door on me… He cracked open the door just enough for me to hear him stammer “Um, we’re not allowed to let parents ride the bus.” He was obviously perplexed and was most likely contemplating calling the police. I pleaded my case but he became slightly agitated at my persistence (and the door was slowly creeping to a close as I begged) so I backed off in defeat and ran to my car bawling.
I followed the bus all the way to school (all of one mile, mind you…) and jumped out of my car to meet Riley as he descended the steps of the bus. He was mildly horrified at my reappearance (after thinking he ditched me on the bus) but at least he wasn’t agitated and had no means to call the police so I proceeded to walk him into school, kiss him goodbye and wish him luck. I returned to my car bawling once again. My baby was all grown up, independent and going off to 1st grade - I was not dealing with it well.
Now Riley is off to high school – the idea of riding the bus with him has crossed my mind once again. But he’s even more independent now – he doesn’t need me to fight his battles or shelter him from pain any more or any less now than he did in first grade.
That’s not my job. But this is my lesson.
(Finally! – the lesson – hoping I didn’t lose you all in my reminiscing).
It breaks the innermost part of my heart to see my children suffer any kind of physical or emotional pain. As difficult as it may be it is not my job to shelter them from the pain in this world because then I would be sheltering them from the inevitable. Pain and Suffering are a reality of this world.
It is my job to teach them safety, provide them with unconditional love and support when they suffer and guide them through the healing process – providing the foundation and preparation that children need to learn to deal with the reality of pain and suffering.
When Riley was just a babe (oh so long ago) I left him with my Mom as I set off for Portland to find an apartment where we would begin our new life on the West Coast. As I kissed him goodbye and fought back tears (I hadn’t left Riley for more than a few hours before this point) I begged my Mom not to let him get even the tiniest scratch or shed a tear while I was away. The thought of my baby hurt broke my heart. But my Mom gently responded by reminding me that Riley was a crawling (and attempting to walk) toddler who was constantly falling – as the many bumps and bruises already on his body foretold. While she promised to keep him safe she reminded me that bumps and bruises were inevitable but she promised to hold him tight and love him when he stumbled.
On my long drive to Portland I had ample time to contemplate those words and my Mom’s simple response to my fear of pain and suffering is where I learned the difference between sheltering my children from inevitable physical or emotional pain - and loving, supporting and guiding them through the reality of suffering.
So as Hope goes off to kindergarten pleading to ride the bus I will resume my routine of following the school bus. And as Riley embarks on his high school journey I will anxiously await his late arrival – thankful for cell phones! And I will be prepared to surround them both with love and support when they encounter difficulties as they embark on this new journey - my independent children will undoubtably flourish in their new environments and thoroughly enjoy the journey despite the inevitable dissappointments along the way.
oh you are such a good writer. you tell it like i am there experiencing it. i love your blogs. you make me want to ride the bus with you!
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