The gears in my mind are fluidly cranking as my thoughts race towards conclusions that are unfounded but very vivid. In the past 12 hours or so I have spent a little time sprinting towards conclusions about my parenting, my kids’ futures, and my ability to keep my sh*t together during the long race that is preschool admissions.
This is it. This is the week we will hear from the preschools to which we applied. I swore to all that is sacred that I would not get so wrapped up in this that I lost sight of the fact that we are essentially looking for a place for Sadie to play (all preschools are play-based because that’s all 3-year-olds can do).
Too late. It is with shame and astonishment that I confess that three tears slid down my cheek this morning because I heard some third-party information about a school we love. We heard about a family who was notified about acceptance. We have not heard that we were accepted (or rejected, for that matter). Hence, the three tears.
I think I am demonstrating amazing restraint.
I am not even sure why I am crying. It’s partly ego: I want the sweet Montrssori school by our house to love us — especially my kids– and to want us. I, unlike other humans, dislike the prospect of rejection.
There’s also a feeling of dread I have when I think about choices I make on behalf of my kids. Picking a school is one of the first big steps to creating a launching pad for Sadie and Simon. How will I know I did it right? Will I look back and think we should have moved to a sweet, bucolic suburb where we could throw stones at Olive Garden while leaning against the Wal-Mart? Even if we do get in, what if one of them needs more structure than Montessori provides? And, how the hell will I know?
Today, having yet to be rejected or accepted at our favorite schools, all possibilities are open. The three tears were a little premature. Last night during prayers I told Sadie that I was going to pray to accept God’s will around schooling and that I was going to trust that we would find a place that is right for our family. It’s possible I said a few more things on the subject, as anxiety makes me long-winded.