Friday.

We’re approaching a parenting milestone and I’m losing sleep over it. We’re making the step from daycare to Pre-K and I’m freaking out a little bit. But I’m not worried about Monday. I’m not tossing and turning worrying about how to navigate the car rider line for the first time, or how to make the perfect “first day of school lunch” or if he’s going to freak out about wearing a uniform. I thought Monday was going to be something to worry about, but I’m not there yet.

I’m on Friday. I’m sick to my stomach thinking about walking into his daycare for the last time. I’m holding back tears thinking about saying goodbye to his teacher, a woman who has shaped him from a wobbly two-year-old in diapers to a confident and smart as hell four year old.

She’s made more lunches for him than I have. She’s watched him as he napped. She taught him his ABCs and his numbers. She’s the reason he’s four and can tell time, recite the Pledge of Allegiance, can count to twenty in Spanish and write his name beautifully. She’s changed poopy pants and rubbed ointment on bug bites and called me when she noticed he wasn’t feeling well. She’s orchestrated Mother’s Day plays and Christmas pageants with 15 toddlers and didn’t lose her mind. She encouraged him to be creative, she prayed with him, she saw his strengths and fostered them. 

I’m going to walk him into a classroom on Monday and hand him over to a teacher who doesn’t know his favorite color like she does, who doesn’t know about his perfectionist tendencies or fear of the dark or strong desire for routine. But I’m not worried about Monday yet, I’m still stuck on Friday.

Friday. The last day I’ll walk him in with 100% confidence that he is under the care of someone who truly loves him, who knows him, and who will miss him with every part of her being. We’re saying goodbye to someone who has not only stood up for him, but taught him to stand up for himself. Friday we will try to find the words to thank her for being such a strong influence in the person he is becoming and close the door on this chapter and walk boldly into the next.

I can do Monday. Monday is new and exciting and fresh and fun. Monday will be a day of firsts and new beginnings.  We can handle Monday, it’s Friday that has my stomach in knots.

On Friday, I hope his teacher knows what an invaluable role she has played in our lives, and how we will treasure these three years in our hearts forever. She has made us better parents and has made him a better kid, and for that we are thankful. We will get through Friday because we know she has set him up for success, and he will thrive on Monday because of the time, effort, energy and love she has poured into him.

And thank you just doesn’t seem like enough.