Your First Day of Pre-school

dear preslee and mason,

in just a few short hours, you start preschool. it feels like your daddy and i have been counting down to this moment since you were born: “can you believe in three years they’ll go to school?” “next year at this time they’ll be in school.” “only two more months until school.” but now, looking back it's felt less like a marathon and more like a 50-yard sprint. today we are buying princess backpacks and packing lunches.

as with every other step along this parenting journey, friends, family, even strangers have offered opinions on how i’ll feel tomorrow. i haven’t a clue but i do know that when the door closes and i get that last glimpse of you for 3 1/2 hours, you’ll crowd my thoughts: what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, if you’re ok, if you’re eating your lunch and using your manners, if you miss me and your baby sister and your daddy.

being a parent has been interesting, frightening, rewarding, and frustrating, sometimes all at once. your daddy and i prayed so hard for you. on the day you were born, you were babies so welcomed and wondered over. a perfect set of twins, the first girls in the beynon family. you were so tiny and ready to meet the world. from the first time i held you both in my arms and saw those little fists balled up and your sweet little red faces when you cried, i knew that you would be something big. look out world, here come my girls!

i was fortunate enough to be able to stay home with you and spend every second marveling in your development. like so many parents of our generation, we tried to give you those “must-haves” the experts insisted on: breastfeeding: Check. lots of books: Check. minimal TV: Check. early preschool: Check. [mostly] healthy meals: Check. your whole life, you’ve had options and choices, a fortunate distinction from most of the rest of the world.

while i have given you advantages and can buy those school supplies and pack your lunch, you’ll have to go it alone. that’s why as the days draw nearer to the start of school, you test the waters, asking questions, imitating imagined conversations, thinking aloud what this strange new world will be like. mason, you have always been cautious, watching and learning before jumping in. it's a trait that comes with some limitations, but it also has its advantages. preslee, always sporting a bruise or a cut, will be cliff diving while you are checking the ropes for her.

once i expressed my own hesitations about school to a teacher friend. her advice stuck with me: the hardest part of releasing you to preschool — or any new experience — is realizing that i must give you up to the less-than-perfect world that awaits you.

while the world has been and always will be imperfect, i too have been an imperfect parent. but i was always willing to learn, to say i was sorry, to try harder the next time. and now i’m willing to release you, with the knowledge that school, like parenting, will be rewarding and frustrating and i cannot change that. despite all those fortunes in your early life, you will have sad days and lonely days and days when you just don’t want to go, when your teacher doesn’t notice you or your best friend won’t play with you or another kid is mean to you. and those days, my girls, will break my heart.

if there are a few thoughts that carry you through, let them be this: while your daddy and i have to let you go, no matter what you think or do or become we will always be there for you and listen. dive off that cliff occasionally (check the rope first). and know that in our imperfect world, with all my imperfect ways, i have been given you and your baby sister, the three most perfect gifts that any parent could ever hope for.

preslee and mason, i love you and am so proud of you!

mommy