Letting Go

Grace has been having a problem with my leaving her with the babysitter lately. When I go to meetings in the evening, she cries and clings to me and begs me to stay with her. As you can imagine, this breaks my heart. I was holding her close the other day and she begged me not to put her down.

"I have to let you go sometime," I said.

The words struck me. We recently received registration forms for pre-school. She could have gone this year, but I refused to send her. She has so many years of school ahead of her, why make her go any sooner than she has to? When these new forms came in the mail, my first reaction was an urge to rip them up and throw them away.

"We can't afford this!" was part of my argument. True, it's a bit expensive, but it's not like we would starve or lose our freaking house if we sent her.

I can't say she's not ready. She can write her name now. She's really into letters and words and picking out the letters in her name.

But she's so little! I thought to myself.

What about her food allergies?

My brother never sent his kids to preschool and they turned out just fine!

Grace doesn't need to go.

Yesterday, I left work early because I have some sort of queasy tummy flu-like thing. I picked Grace up from daycare on my way home. Her daycare provider, not wanting me to enter her home, had Grace all ready and waiting for me outside. She was all bundled up in her coat, hat, mittens, boots, and a backpack on her back. The daycare provider waved to me and sent her to the waiting van. I watched her as she walked, and she seemed bigger somehow, more grown up, as she got herself into the van, sat in her booster seat, and buckled up.

At home, she immediately said, "You better lay down, mommy." She got me my pajamas, and asked if I needed a bucket.

Sigh. Maybe she is ready.

It won't be tear-free, I can guarantee that. I will be crying like a baby.