Three Tears For Preschool

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.

Sadie looked up at me after my “school trust” monologue and said, “Can I say ‘amen’ now and go to sleep?”. If nothing else, I now know how to get her to beg for sleep.


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