Holding on Tightly

You know that feeling you have as the roller coaster jerks upward, clickety-clacking toward the top of the first "hill" of the ride? You're excited, you're nervous, you have no idea what is on the other side. A giant drop? A small little wave? A curve that will jerk you every which way? Your hands grasp firmly to the handlebar over your lap, your legs might tighten, you might lean in to your riding partner, you are anxiously smiling with a clenched jaw, and you're holding on tightly, bracing yourself for what is to come.

That's how I felt tonight at our preschool's celebration event. It's the end of another great year for my little boys, and we gathered together for the fourth year in a row with this extended family of ours to celebrate our babies' successes and milestones. Each class sings a song of friendship or gratitude, and the parents in the audience reflect on a year of great growth for their littlest children. Maybe their baby overcame separation anxiety. Maybe he learned to talk that year. Maybe she potty-trained or tried new foods or found a best friend. Maybe he overcame his fear of the stage or of fire drills. Maybe he learned to control his temper or found a love for books or music or arts and crafts. Maybe she learned to assert herself or ask for help when she needs it. Whatever the milestone, we are all there reminiscing about our sweet little ones and how far they've come in a school year's time. 

Tonight, I was doing all of that for Knox and for Quinn. But, I was also feeling the fear of what is to come, and I was holding on so tightly to the memories, the huge gains I've seen in my boys, and remembering the four years of Quinn's adventures in preschool. He got there all too quickly, and he's leaving even faster. We've been bracing ourselves for this emotional night for a couple weeks since Quinn has been grappling with his fears, worries, excitement, and concerns about Kindergarten. He knows he is ready. Academically, he will excel, we have no doubt. Socially, he will make friends and be a kind friend to all. Emotionally, though, he is a bit of his mama's son, and he is nervous about change. He has come home telling us about the words to his "Celebration Class" song ("Wherever I Go" from Hannah Montana):

Here we are now. Everything's about to change. We face tomorrow as we say goodbye to yesterday. A chapter ending but the story's only just begun. A page is turning for everyone. So I'm moving on, letting go. Holding on to tomorrow. I've always got the memories while I'm finding out who I'm gonna be. We might be apart, but I hope you always know you'll be with me wherever I go.

I could go on and list the second verse of the song, but you get the point. It's an emotional song, and my emotional, sensitive kiddo knows and feels those words. So, when he would come home and tell me, "Mommy, the words to my Celebration song make me sad," I knew he might struggle as the event came closer. I've tried not to let him think too much about it, but he would continue to bring up his feelings during bed time the last couple weeks, "Mommy, I"m happy and I'm sad about leaving Anshai," "Mommy, I'm nervous about Kindergarten," "I've been at Anshai for a long time, and it's going to be hard to leave." He is well aware of this chapter in his life ending, and he is fully feeling it.

So, tonight, as we got in the car to go back up to school, he said, "Mommy, I'm feeling a little nervous." I told him that is very normal, and it's okay to feel that way. I gave him some tools to try- breathing through it, holding his hands together, distracting himself with other friends and conversations, listening to what the teacher says, etc. And as we walked in to his classroom, he asked me to tell his teacher how he was feeling. She took him under her wing, and he separated from me just fine. But, a few lines into his first (of three) songs, he was tearing up, covering his face, and before long, sitting in the teacher's lap. He was able to get himself back together for the second song, but he was very anxious and didn't want to go back up there at all. I had a brief chat with him - reminding him that this is the only chance he'll get to sing, and I didn't want him to regret not singing with his class, not participating. I went and sat very close to the stage, and again, I held on tightly - hoping he could muster the calm to get through the tears and anxieties.

By the end of the last song, he was fine, and even later after dinner, he was having a great time with his buddies he's known since before he was 2, taking pictures with former teachers, smiling with his "girlfriend" as she came up to tell him "Congratulations, Quinn!" (oh, be still my heart!), and acting silly and rambunctious as usual. His teachers were able to speak directly to each PreK student "graduating" tonight, and he was fidgety and swinging his arms as he listened nervously to his teachers' words. We took a few more photos, and we reminisced about how he used to run along the sidewalk with his buddies when we'd pick him up from the 2's class, how he used to have such a hard time separating from us when he was in the toddler class, how he was one of the only kiddos talking so well at not even 2-years-old, how he'll miss the games Ms. Rachel would play with the celebration class, how he used to be afraid to go to Hebrew class or wouldn't sing the Bear Hunt song.

And there I was again, holding on tightly. Holding on as I wanted the roller coaster to just halt, stop dead in its tracks so that time would just hold still a little longer - let me embrace the safety of this side of the coaster where he has felt safe and I know what to expect and where he's my little preschooler. I want to hold tightly to the memories, the people, the littleness of him, this chapter in his life, the friendships and relationships I'VE made through 4 of his 5-and-a-half years.

So, tonight we celebrated how my little toddler grew up at this school he has grown to love. We reminisced, we cried, we laughed, we embraced. We held tightly to the present time, because we're about to go over that big hump in the roller coaster, and a new ride starts soon. And, alas, we will keep holding on tightly... because Knox is on his way to his next adventure, too!