That Time I Cried Over A Scholastic Book Form.

Before becoming a mom, there are certain things you try to imagine with your children. You imagine swaddling their tiny brand new bodies, kissing every inch of their soft sweet skin as you hold them close to you. You imagine rocking them to sleep, taking their first steps, celebrating their first birthdays and suffering their first skinned knee. I don't know why, but I never once gave thought to their first days of school or how emotional I would be about it. 

Earlier this week Carter and I drove to school together for Meet the Teacher Day. I woke up that morning feeling such a wild mix of emotions, it's almost hard to put them all down in words. Part of me felt like this was such a momentous occasion- I would be meeting the woman who would be responsible for cultivating curiosity and creativity in my firstborn. For teaching him and loving on him for two and a half hours, two days a week, while he was away from me. 
She would become an almost stand-in Mother for him and it is because of this that I have such a fond place in my heart for preschool and kindergarten teachers.
I was excited. I was excited for Carter to begin this new adventure. After all, I know how awesome of a kid he is. How inquisitive and smart and funny and passionate. I couldn't wait him to share these attributes and for others to see the awesome in him. 
At the same time, I worried. Of course I did. I worried about how he would handle the time away from me. The new environment. I worried that, for some crazy reason, he wouldn't make any friends. 

Each day for the last several weeks, we would talk a little bit about going to school. About how much fun he'll have and all the things he'll learn and the new friends he will meet. We talk about how he'll have a teacher and some helpers in his class and how he'll get his own cubby to store his brand new tote bag in. 

Each time we talked, he would become more and more excited. 
As we stepped through the doors of his new school, ready to meet the teacher, he placed his little hand in mine and I swear I had to fight back tears. We walked/half-skipped up to the registration desk and before I could even say a word, Carter had already introduced himself and said he's here to meet his teachers. 
My heart almost burst. 
After signing a few papers and picking up our tuition packet, we were off in search of the yellow teddy bear that would signal his new classroom. He spotted it right away and I stood back as he went to open the door. 
I held my breath as we stepped into his classroom, glancing down to see his reaction. 
He walked right into that room, threw his hands out to his sides and announced "Hi! My name's Carter!" I half-smiled. As his teacher stepped forward to introduce herself, he ran right up to her and gave her the biggest hug. 
And that's when I realized I'd still been holding my breath. As I let out the biggest sigh of relief, I couldn't help but laugh. The other moms standing around also let out a giggle. A few said, "Well, someone is ready!" I laughed to myself and sheepishly replied, "At least one of us is!"
That's my boy. 
I glanced around the room, it was everything I had hoped it was going to be and more. Memories came flooding back of my preschool days, the few standout things I remember about them. Particularly the kitchen and doll corner. How everything smells like school. A mix of old books and wax crayons and cleaner.   
Within minutes Carter was across the room emptying a bin of cars and trucks alongside a little boy named Lane. Their little blonde heads pushed together as they dug through the bin, comparing cars and searching for the best ones. 
As the moms gathered together and made their way across the hall for the conference portion of the morning, I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder one last time. I felt my heart leap into my throat as Carter didn't even lift his eyes. 
That's my boy. 
I feel like now would be a good time to mention that I was the youngest mom in the room by a good 5-7 years. Most moms present had (multiple) older children who had already been through many, many First Days. They were pros and I was a little jealous of their calm, indifferent demeanor and steadfast knowledge that everything was going to be OK. 
Internally, I was freaking out. Freaking out about having to make small talk and about my firstborn starting school. Freaking out about schedules and projects and how would I remember picture day? And show and tell day? And? And? And...
Our chairs were arranged in a semi-circle, each chair laden with a packet of papers topped with with a bright yellow teddy bear name tag bearing the names of our children. I picked up my pile of goodies, sat down and as I rubbed that little laminated bear in between my fingers I felt that familiar burn in the back of my throat, the sting in my eyes. 
As the teacher began to introduce herself, I found myself with more reassurance than ever that I had made the right decision. Pre-K 3 was going to be so great. For both of us. I couldn't stop smiling as she detailed her experience, her love of children, a typical day in her classroom. 
That smile only grew wider and wider as we thumbed through the Welcome pamphlet and chatted about Picture Day, Christmas Pageants and field trips. At this point I was practically beaming. I glanced around the circle at the other moms and could tell instantly that I may as well have had First Time At The Rodeo tattooed across my forehead. 
I didn't care though. This was awesome. 
And then, tucked neatly into the back of our welcome packet, was the Scholastic Book form. The thin newspaper pages so familiar between my fingers. I could feel the tears begin to prick my eyes. I wasn't going to cry. Not now. Not over the Scholastic Book form. 
But I couldn't wait to get home and sit down at the table with Carter, like my mom did with me for so many years, and go through that book form, page by page and book by book. Begging and pleading with her "for just one more." When those books were delivered, my pile was always the biggest. 
I couldn't wait to do the same with my son. To hang his art work all throughout my house. Colored pages and projects spilling out from cabinets and cork boards. I couldn't wait for him to fill me in on his days. Telling me story after story about circle time and science time and arts and craft time.
As the conference portion ended and we shuffled back into the classroom, my eyes immediately found Carter, playing an elaborate game of race track with Lane. 
As the classroom began to empty, his little hand found mine and he looked up at me and said, "Let's go home, Mom. I can't wait to go back to school tomorrow." 
That's my boy. 
It looks like we're both ready for school this year.