High School Snapshots

So here's the scene:  

It's 8:20 am and we are on our way out the door after a few "I don't want to ride the bus" statements.  It's a dreary day, but no rain yet, so we ditch the umbrella.  We walk to the bus stop looking for grasshoppers, singing, and talking about the "early release" day.  I make a note not to be at the nail salon or the wine store again, all the while O keeps asking me if I'm "REALLY" going to be at the bus stop after school.  Yes, REALLY. 

When we arrive at the bus stop, we say our hellos to all the children and parents who are probably wondering if I will be walking my child onto the bus AGAIN.  We give the kitty some treats.  We pet the kitty as the other kids gather around asking if they too can give away a few cat treats too.  The trash truck drives by us.  I tease O that today is a different day.  Rather than her riding the bus to school, she gets to ride the trash truck!  She glares at me not sure whether to believe me or not.  I smile.  She giggles and then ERRRRRCCHH!  

The bus pulls up and she grips my hand like she will never let go.  We walk up the stairs together as I greet the bus driver.  Mimi and Lina wave to us.  She sits down on the seat between them and looks up to me with sad eyes.  Mimi tells O she made a snowflake on the window for her.  I comment on the kindness of the gesture, however I get the sense O would have preferred a kind gesture of opening the emergency exit.   

We say our goodbyes with the kiss, hug and "kissing hand".  "Have fun, O", I tell her.  She begins to tear up.  I take a deep breath and tell her she can do this.  I tell the bus driver to "Drive Safe" and I run down the stairs.  All the while, I feel like the other parents must be shaking their heads and pursing their lips annoyed that I'm holding my child's hand and walking on to the bus with her every day.  My face is sad, but I take a deep breath and turn around with a smile and a wave just in case she decides to look out and wave back at me.  She doesn't.  I walk home with the feeling of my stomach in my throat, heart pounding.  Lately, I've been writing about other things, but this has been happening every day.

Last night at dinner I asked O why she doesn't like to ride the bus. "Mommy, I don't like to ride the bus, because I have to leave you."

"Aw, that is so sweet O.  Please don't worry about me, I'm a big girl and I have lots of responsibilities.  I will be at the gym, writing my blog, running errands.  Somewhere in there I will have lunch, maybe shop and then I will be back at the bus stop to pick you up.  Do you think it might help if daddy took you to the bus stop each day?"

"No.  I want you to take me to the bus stop."  

"OK.  Can you think of anything that might make it easier."

"No.  I just want you."

"Why don't I give you a little picture of me and then you can look at it when I'm not there?"

"No, because then I will miss you more and I will cry harder and harder.  Mommy, you're not going to make me go on the bus by myself, are you?"

"Only when you are ready.  You just have to tell me when that is."

"OK.  What if I'm never ready?"

"I don't know.  I have a feeling one day you will be." A snapshot flashes through my head of me getting on the high school girls soccer bus, giving her a hug, kiss, and a kissing hand.  Oh Lord, and I think the parents look at me now!  

I came home and thought about the bottle of Pinot Noir on my counter and then decided instead to meditate.  And here is the wisdom that came out of that.  Go drink the wine.  Don't just sit here wondering how much longer you have before five minutes of silence is up.  Go drink the wine.  It's right there and it's waiting for you.  And then after a deep breath I receive this:  

While O is dealing with the emotional pressure of Kindergarten, I too am dealing with some perceived peer pressure from the other parents who may not understand what I am going through trying to aclimate my child to this new routine. I know what is best for my child. If that means getting on the bus every morning or some other measure to ensure my child's happiness, I will do it without the concern of what others think.  Truth be told, however, I also know that we live in a wonderful community among wonderful friends and neighbors who likely know and accept the process I am dealing with, and don’t judge me in any way.  That gives me great comfort.  And if she's in high school requesting this same routine, I will do whatever it takes to make her feel safe and confident in this big beautiful world – except her homework!  

And I thought I left all those self-concious feelings way back in high school.  It's just another confirmation that kindergarten SUCKS!