I'm finding that I'm having a hard time with my firstborn going to school for the first time, not only because I don't want him to grow up, but because I don't want him to be hurt. His little heart, although it may seem tough and untouchable, is as tender as a flower growing on the side of the highway. I see how he is affected by rejection or hurtful words and I can't help but want to protect him, shelter him from any possible interaction of that nature. My mommy heart is torn up inside to not be right there in the classroom watching his responses to the teacher's instructions, his ability (or lack thereof) to obey and sit still, the way he might interact with new classmates and them with him, to see if he is accepted and loved-is anyone going to know that he is really good at writing his letters or how much he loves his little sister? Is he going to fit in, or better yet, stand alone with confidence in the fact that he's unique? My heart is thrilled for him to have the chance to be in school and to learn. To make new friends and try new things. To be in a structured environment focused on expanding that little mind of his. I'm excited too, to spend some focused time with Zion in the mornings, to enjoy this small season we have left with him at home. Not to mention, the school is
directly in front of our house, so unlike other mommies, I get to watch from a window up above during recess to calm my fears and see just how well he really is adjusting and how much the other kids have welcomed him in.
In contemplating whether or not to homeschool, one of the things I realized is that a homeschooling mom never gets breaks from her kids and I know I need breaks. But now that he's in school I want to march right over there and take him home, never to let him out of my sight for fear of what might happen.
Then I have a reality check: remember Rachel how you fought over what socks he would wear this morning and how his pants are too long but he won't let you roll the top for fear of someone seeing its state. Remember how, when we're home, every other minute he's asking if he can play on electronics or watch a show and that he
desperately needed to get out of the house and into a place that would challenge him and give his mornings more purpose than I was giving him- a place called
school. This is the truth of the matter. The other truth? I can't always protect him, nor do I want a 25 year old still living in my house because he has no social skills and is still breastfeeding because his mommy couldn't let go. No, this is not the life I want for him or for me.
It's just the first day of school and I'm dying inside, that's all. God is his true caretaker, most days I just
think I am. He will guard and protect my baby. And on the off chance that Titus' heart gets wounded, God is the one who will heal it, not me. My job is to bring him to Jesus and to love on him and protect him as much as is in my ability to do so. And I will. Only 35 minutes until he's home. I've almost made it through my Titus' first day of school. I think this calls for a reward. Pavlova and a cup of tea sounds perfect.
Tell me about your baby's first day and what your heart was going through...
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