Yesterday my baby started school. And I didn’t cry.
I have seen so many Facebook posts about how upsetting it’s been, how tears have been shed, how it’s so difficult.
Yet I didn’t cry.
My baby started school, and I didn’t cry.
Yes, it’s emotional that my baby is big enough to trot off to school in his big boy uniform and look adorably cute. I mean, totally adorable.
But I didn’t cry.
I was busy trying to peel him off my leg whilst simultaneously trying to stop the baby trying to dive out of my arms to go and play with all of the toys out.
Trying to gently usher him away before slipping out the door with shouts of see you at lunchtime.
Multitasking at its finest.
But still, I didn’t cry.
It’s not because I am relishing the freedom that those precious hours of school give me, to spend with the baby, to have coffee. I am. But that’s not why I didn’t cry.
It’s not because I know it’s going to be an amazing experience for him, learning with his peers, being exposed to new cultures, messy play that I don’t have to clean up. I know that. I’m excited for that. But that’s not why I didn’t cry.
It’s not because I knew he would be fine, that his excited babble over the summer, in the car on the drive to school, meant that he was in fact excited alongside being nervous. He was fine. He was excited. But that’s not why I didn’t cry.
It’s not because I knew it would be better for him if I didn’t cry. That I subscribe to the tell them I’m going, give them a squeeze and go kind of mentality. I do. But that’s not why I didn’t cry.
I didn’t cry because all of a sudden I didn’t get chance to cry. The moment that I have played in my mind, the prolonged goodbye, the wistful glance back over my shoulder, the stifled sobs. The prolonged hand holding. The movie scene I have played over and over just didn’t happen.
There was no trembling lip and silence all around. There was noise, chaos and toys. There was excitement and nervousness. There was a baby trying to dive out of my arms to join his big brother. It was just that, a moment. Then it was gone.
One minute I was dropping him off, the next moment he was dropped off.
In the blink of an eye.
Instead I went and washed my pants. Had a coffee. The Baby had a sleep. I pondered for a moment why I didn’t cry and in the end just put it down to one of those things.
Then I picked him up. My biggest boy.
His smart shirt untucked and reaching his knees, the sparkle in his eyes and the running leap he did to squeeze me in the worlds biggest cuddle. His excited babble telling me about his day, the painting, the songs, the animals,the story about Mr Grumpy, Mummy, Mummy, Mummy have you seen my star?!
And at that point I had a tear. At that point I cried.
It doesn’t matter that I didn’t cry from saying goodbye to my little boy as he starts his school journey.
It’s not about the starting school journey, the heading on his own, it was about realising that his dreams start here and he can be anything he wants to be. I’ve not lost my baby to big school, I’ve realised that this wonderful little boy can be anything he wants to be. And he will.
And while he’s at school? Well then, I’ll take that chance to drink hot coffee as he embarks on his path through life…