Dear Kitty,

My floor has a trench in it from pacing back and forth last night. You would think it was Annie that was up creating trenches with worry before her first day of Kindergarten (again) but it was me.

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

Back and forth, back and forth.

I kept chastising myself for not sleeping (which does not help promote counting sheep, but more like counting worries) and worrying about her first day of school. She didn’t seem to be worrying. I know because I checked to see if she was sleeping 1,567 times. I even poked her a couple times…you know, in case she wanted to talk about her worry…she didn’t stir and I was left to pace.

I even poked Brian a few times, walked purposely loud and may or may not have slightly slammed the bathroom door in our room to see if he was having a fitful sleep as well.

He would startle awake and I would ask, “I’m sorry…where you sleeping? Do you want to talk?”

He would say, “No, I wasn’t sleeping…I was just..hmmmph…zzzzzz.”

Listening to someone else snore is also not conducive to nodding off. It just makes me want to punch you in the arm for having the audacity to sleep while I am left to pace by myself.

So, why no sleep?

Pacing, pacing, pacing.

It was because of last year. Her big two weeks she went to Kindergarten before I pulled her out.

Dan had died right before she started school and we were all a wreck. We tried to play normal. We tried to do the school thing.

We bombed out of “normal.” Rather than focusing on the need for penmanship or arithmetic, we zeroed in on healing.

Recognizing the time frame and the trigger that occurred, I had to recognize that this was a milestone. It wasn’t mine, but hers.

She had pretty much been in a type of life school for the past year and today was her graduation day. When she started a year ago, she was scared, sad and withdrawn. She had been through all the lessons and today by walking through the doors of her classroom she was going to prove that she graduated.

That she had passed the test laid before her and was ready to move on.

I finally laid down around 5am. Confident that we BOTH were ready for today. Ready for “normal.” I had to be willing to accept that she has gained her strength. She doesn’t need me to walk her into a new chapter in life. She has learned to be strong and confident. I know she will still need me at times, but she doesn’t NEED me like she did last year at this time. I’m willing to quit worrying about it and stop pacing.

As I type this, she is sitting in her classroom. I wonder how it felt for her to cross that “stage” for her emotional “diploma?”

…and frankly…I can’t wait to see her!

Categories: August Diary Entry

Tags: child learning strength, graduating pain