No Cry Zone

As we get out of the car I feel pretty good. We were laughing and talking about the day ahead. We walk towards the doors and he points to the play area and shares he has ‘that, that and that.” We are still playful and walk down a short flight of stairs. The smell of cookies, glue and play-doh fill the air. I grab my chest. Nicole, do not do it. Don’t do it. I look up to the ceiling having the tears retreat back into my eyes. We have reached the No Cry Zone.

I hold his hand a little tighter and take my eyes down to look straight ahead. There it is on the wall “KADEN” written with black sharpie on a green gingerbread boy. The wind is knocked out of me. I squeeze his hand and shake my body. I adjust my posture. I ask him to stay close because Mom needs her baby. It is happening. We are going to school.

I see his teacher down the hallway, which only a moment ago was a short distance from where we stood. It now has a feeling of a photograph taken with an eye fish lens: narrow and long and everything in the distance is taller and askew. It all sits in a bubble. I am nervous, uneasy and a little hungry. The glue must be making me high.

Today is introduction to preschool day. Three one-hour sessions to play and meet as well as pay are available for students and family. I have literally been thinking of this day for 2 ½ years. He was six months old when I started researching area public and private schools. At birth I knew he was either going to be the youngest or the oldest in his class. And like I do best, I started researching and planning. What I didn’t plan for: No Cry Zone entry.

We have looked at school many times on the internet. He asked where the Pooh chair is. The teacher pointed and he ran towards it. He grabbed a book and jumped into the cushions. It is nice he is so comfortable. Never mind I am left standing in the doorway clutching a bag of school supplies gaping for what feels like my last breath. Isn’t this how he is supposed to feel? I should be planning my ‘free’ time with a joy-filled (not heavy) heart.

Mrs. Snook spent 10 minutes of one-on-one time with him. They watched the fish in the aquarium. She read to him in funny voices. She showed him a few activities and asked him about his family, favorite things and the like. Kids ran into the room looking for her. She hugged each child close right up onto her cheek. She would rub their arms, legs and even hair on a girl’s back. She is genuine. She cares. She is a nurturer. As she asks each child about something they did over the summer (she remembered so and so was going to have a sibling, go to Bend or move into a new house) she listened to their story through stutters and toddler voice. I love her. I felt the cramp in my throat working its way out.

Kade and I took the tour one more time. We looked at the bathroom. He liked the tiny toilet. He laughed and laughed at the pint size of it. We went through the snack room and into the music room. He enjoyed the ‘gym’ and climbing piece. We looped back into the entry hallway. This time it wasn’t as long as it appeared upon our arrival. It is actually a short walk and we did so quickly just as we had done through these past three years.

At the beginning of his life it felt preschool was a lifetime away. He would never fit into 3T clothes. And here I am standing in the door way between baby and boy. The path from then to now is crazy fast. It had its own fish eye moments, but it was a short quick walk, indeed.

As I am sitting in a world of symbolism his little voice squeezes my heart. “Bye-bye school. Be back yater!” His hand is in the sky waving. I can hear the laughter behind us. “Mama, can I bring Daddy to show him school?” They will be back at 6:30 to check it out again.

The two of us leave the No Cry Zone he as a preschooler and me, well a little stronger as I have to reenter the 'zone' on Tuesday. I think my (big) boy will help me get through MY first day.