Milestones are Overrated

Today was Ryan's kindergarten orientation. The day started off chaotic and stressful. Luke's bus usually picks him up at the house with plenty of time to get Emma to her bus stop afterwards, but it was late today, and by the time we got Emma down to the corner, I thought we had missed her bus. We waited a while, then headed back home. Since my mother-in-law was coming by to take us to Ryan's orientation, I wasn't as panicked as usual. I was, however, extremely irritated to see Emma's bus drive by a few minutes later, after we were already back inside. So she was a little late to school. After checking her in at the main office, I walked Ryan to the kindergarten hallway and realized I was supposed to pack him a little snack. Oh well. More troubling was the fact that Ryan completely clammed up and didn't want to go near the classroom doorway. I should have anticipated it, since he was the same when he started preschool two years ago, but he's usually the polar opposite of shy. He would not budge. It happens to plenty of kids, I know, but I was already quite frazzled and had very little patience for it, especially when he'd been looking forward to it for weeks and I knew he'd have a blast once he went inside. And he goes to that school once a week for speech lessons, so it's not like the building or the concept was unfamiliar to him. Finally one of the administrators had the idea to get Emma and have her walk him into the classroom. It seemed to do the trick. I checked in the office after the parents' meeting and they said he was doing fine.

But because I was so full of frustration and stress, I forget to be nostalgic. See, this will probably be the last kid I send off to kindergarten. I should be cherishing this precious moment, making memories, blah blah blah. But no. It never works that way. Luke's first day of kindergarten was fraught with worry about whether he'd transition well from the preschool to the K-2 special ed classroom. It didn't feel like a beginning, since he'd already been going to school all day for two and a half years. With Emma we had trouble figuring out her bussing situation, so we were fretting about that, not to mention that Luke's unusual situation prevented us from creating lots of cutesy traditions and rituals for the start of kindergarten.

Maybe I'll have more wherewithal for fond nostalgia when Ryan actually starts kindergarten in September. I kind of doubt it. But I need to stop feeling guilty about it either way. Sure, it's important to commemorate things and appreciate milestones. Just not to the point that you can't actually live the life you're trying to commemorate. One day I'll look back and remember this era in my life, and maybe I'll think, "Yes, those were the days!" or maybe I'll think, "Ugh, I'm so glad to be done with that!" and maybe I'll think both things at once. I don't want to be one of those people who tells young parents to enjoy it while they can, because I don't like it when people say that to me. As if I don't already have enough to be worrying about, that I need to be enjoying the heck out of every little drop of my parental experience. I'll enjoy it in my own way, and sometimes I'll just be stressed and frazzled, and some of my best memories will be random moments unconnected to anything momentous, no photos or rituals or grand ceremonies, just my kids being my kids.