Today is the big day - Paul's first day of preschool - and I must say I'm a bundle of nerves. Here's why. Any hopes I had of him overcoming his fears were dashed Friday morning when we headed to moms' group at church. I've mentioned before that ever since Ben hasn't been with him there, he has been fearful. I did my best to prep him for it, and though he did protest a bit, I figured that he would cry some and then be OK. But as soon as we set foot in the door, he began to not cry, but sob. Snot-running-out-of-his-nose, heaving sobs. "Mommy, don't go!" he wailed. I did my best to calm him, though that really wasn't possible in his thoroughly panicked state. So I made for the door in the hopes that he would work it out and be OK, as he has done in the past. No sooner did I close the door than he opened the door and threw himself at my feet, begging me not to leave. It was at that point I decided we needed to leave.
Utterly bereft, I trudged into the house and began to look for articles on preschool separation anxiety. Of course many kids his age have it. Many of the others at church cried on Friday, though Paul's display certainly was the most, er, colorful. In my readings, I discovered that I did a lot of things wrong. That's nothing new for me. Don't sneak out, one expert implored, it's dishonest and it's only easier for you, not them. Did that. Don't bribe or offer rewards, another said. Did that. Don't cave in and take the child home, or he will think crying works. Oh, dear. I was beginning to lose hope for him and for me. I did find some tips that I hope will work for today. Often it works better for someone besides the mother to drop off the child, hence Mark taking Paul today. Also I let him choose a small toy to keep in his pocket as a security object.
Many wise people have reminded me that this is a phase, that just as all children one day will be potty trained, they all will go to school and do fine. I guess the hardest part for me is seeing him so scared, so upset. And underneath it all is a kernel of doubt in my mind. Sometimes the worry is simmering, others seemingly boiling over. Am I doing this right? Did I do something to cause him to be like this? I question my very decision to be a stay-at-home mom. Has it left Paul ill-prepared to face these challenges? I don't know the answers.
In preparation for today, we've been reading the children's book The Kissing Hand by Audrey Penn. It taps right into the anxiety that children and parents alike feel on the first day of school. In it the mama raccoon places a kiss on young Chester's palm and promises that whenever he misses his mom, he will be able to put his palm to his cheek and feel his mother's love (Mama loves you, Mama loves you). By the end of the book when Chester plants his own kiss on his mom's hand and she puts it to her cheek and hears "Chester loves you, Chester loves you," I was a sobbing mess myself, but Paul was smiling. So we'll try it today and hope that it gets us both through.
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