In the Book of My Life this chapter is entitled "I'm Not Ready!"

In the week leading up to the birth of my twins I was hit by a sudden attack of nerves.  What had we done?  Were we really prepared to be parents?  Really prepared for life as we knew it to change and change forever?  Once you bring a child into the world you can't just send it back saying, oh sorry, this crazy exhaustion? this greasy hair and these spit-up stained sweats? this feeling of isolation and constant sense of guilt, of not being enough? Yeah, that's not what I ordered.

I always say that I like change.  And I do.  Right after the blisters of breaking it in have all healed up into nice strong callouses.    In the week before the babies were born I had the terrifying realization that there would be no "getting back to normal" after they came.  We were going to have to find a new normal and I just couldn't picture it.  I had so many questions.  How was I going to breastfeed two babies?  How was I going to go grocery shopping?  When would I make dinner?  When would I sleep?  What were my days going to look like?  What if I didn't like being a mom?  What if I wasn't any good at it?  When the glow of delivery wears off and people stop bringing meals and gifts and your husband goes back to work you can't pass off the babies to their real mom and say well, that was fun, what should we do next? This was it, life permanently and irrevocably shifting.  I was terrified.

Fastforward six years.

Tristan and Ava will be starting Kindergarten next week.  They will be going two full days a week and an additional half-day every other week.  Life again is permanently and significantly changing.  This shift feels more momentous than adding another baby to the mix.  That was a change.  That altered our family dynamics.  But the fabric of our daily life remained largely the same.  I was still at home raising small children.  I had done the baby thing before. I knew what to expect.  I could picture what my days were going to look like.  As I look ahead to next week I realize there will be no "getting back to normal".  We will again have to find our new normal and I just can't picture it.  I have so many questions.  Where will I park to drop them off?  Who is their teacher going to be?  What am I going to make for lunches?  What will their days look like?  Are they going to like it?  What if someone is mean to them?  What if they get hurt and I'm not there to kiss it better?

Last Spring when we went to our Kindergarten orientation the three Kindergarten teachers did a little presentation about "A day in the life of your Kindergartener".  It was adorable and I walked away feeling so good about the upcoming year, so excited for the kids because of all the new and wonderful experiences they were going to have.  Now that it's a week away I am realizing what this change really means.  It means that our small little family circle of influence will have to increase and I will have to share my kids with new friends, teachers and coaches and that I won't always like what those influences will say to my kids.  It means I will no longer know everything that happens during their day and that I will know less and less the older they get.  It means a growing number of backward glances over their shoulders as I stay behind, waving them off.


I realize they are only just starting school, that we will have thirteen years of it before they fly the coop.  I also realize that this new phase of life means I will have one morning every week (Sebastian will be going to preschool one morning a week this year while the kids are in school) entirely and gloriously to myself which I'm definitely not sad about! It's just that this shift signals another permanent shift, one where the end goal is not just to have well-mannered, well-behaved kids.  The end goal of this phase is to have raised strong, confident and independent individuals who are ready to take on their own grand adventures, make their own life decisions and live with those consequences.  The days where I can make them do anything will be long gone.   Which is as it should be.  Which is what I want.  Tomorrow.  Today, looking at Tristan and Ava's open faces unmarred by the pain of a friend's betrayal; their bright eyes not carrying the shadow of hurtful words; today, hearing the pure joy in their laughter, I just want time to stop.