Guest Mom Alyssa Alexander: The First Step

Welcome, everyone, to the funny, touching mom world Alyssa Alexander inhabits when she’s not lost in writing a Regency tale!

The First Step

It is the Eve of Kindergarten.

Pencil case. Check.

Backpack and lunchbox purchased. Check.

Bus number. Check.

Open house attended. Check.

Locker, classroom, bathroom and desk located. Check.

To do: Make lunch for the first day, pack up the backpack, lay out tomorrow’s clothing—for the record, my Biscuit doesn’t wear nice little polo shirts or khakis. He’s chosen a Ninjago ® t-shirt and basketball shorts for the first day of school.

Mama’s worries: Will he find his classroom or aimlessly wander the halls? Will he like the teacher? His friends? Will he exhibit proper behavior? (Always a worry with small boys of exuberant natures and overly curious personalities.)

Biscuit’s worries: Do they have snack time and outside time? (A boy must have his priorities.) And, when can he go to science class?

Aside from those minor (?!) worries, it seems like we’re all set. The bus will stop at our driveway tomorrow and pick him up. He’ll go to school, meet new friends, meet a new teacher, and hopefully learn the difference between U and V, which seems to be very tricky. Still, for us, this isn’t entirely unknown territory, as Biscuit has been in daycare since he was an infant and attended preschool as well. Same thing, different location, right?

Wrong. In so many ways. This is a step away from me, somehow, even though he’s been in daycare for so long. I know, I know, it’s just another in a long line of steps he will take that make him an independent man (assuming I’ve done my job right.) We’ve had some firsts before, of course. First day at daycare, first overnight visit at Grandma’s, first step. But that doesn’t make kindergarten any easier.

This is my first and last child. My only. There’s never been a first day of school before, and there will never be another for me. Or for him. So I guess that puts me and Biscuit on even ground, doesn’t it?

Yes, there will be the first day each year, but that’s not the same as the first day of kindergarten. With a bus. And hot lunch. And lots and lots of children I don’t know instead ten kids who grew up with him in daycare, moving from the infant room to the toddler room to the preschool room. I don’t know this (very nice) teacher, I don’t know the parents of these other children. I don’t know where everything is in the classroom or what he will do there all day. And I won’t get the chance to ask the teacher every day what he ate and who he played with and whether he took a nap. Yes, over time I will meet and become friends with many of these parents and children, and I can always talk to the teacher, volunteer and attend conferences.

But in reality, I have little no control over my child’s daily life. That’s a terrifying thought for this mother. I’m not overly protective—the opposite, I would say. But this is uncharted territory. There will suddenly be a barrier between me and my child. It is school.

And it is tomorrow.

. . .

It’s the morning.

He’s gone.

Yes, everything went wonderfully. We got up on time—even early. Biscuit popped out of bed, dressed in his favored shirt. Ate a big breakfast so he would be ready for a good long day at school. The backpack was filled with paper and his super hero lunchbox. A little heart sticker was on a piece of paper folded in his pocket in case he needed some love during the day. I have a matching sticker and love note tucked in my purse.

I was able to laugh as he ran down the driveway shouting “Where is my bus? Where is my bus?” We waited, and waited, and waaaaited. Then there it was, in all its yellow-gold, airbrake, unmistakable diesel-smelling glory.

He didn’t even turn around to look at me before he climbed aboard. He just went right up those steps without a backward glance, tumbled into the first seat with all his knobby elbows and knees knocking around. Then he looked at me though the little window. He was so short he could barely peek over the edge. But he was grinning. And blowing kisses.

And then he was gone. Leaving me in dust and diesel exhaust.

I cried only a little, as I watch my baby ride off with big, scary fifth graders. I had never noticed how really, really big fifth graders are. They I pulled up my mama jeans and went to work, and tried desperately not to wonder if he could remember where the bathroom was and if he could find his lunchbox.

. . .

He’s in bed now. Exhausted. Two more love notes are folded up on his chest (I will move them to the nightstand, though, so they survive the night).

All my worry was for naught. In fact, he told me “I can’t even answer all of your questions, because I’m too excited to talk!” So not only did he make it through the day, he thrived. New friends (whose names he doesn’t know), a new teacher, a numbered table to sit at (“I’m at table number one, mom!”), and that super hero lunch box ready for the next lunch.

Still, while he’s so excited for tomorrow, I’m left wondering what happened to my baby! Because instead of the infant and toddler I thought I had, I’m raising a boy. A real boy. With scabby knees and bruised shins, and questions about the universe and mortality and how popsicles are made and how bugs fly. A boy who will get on the bus tomorrow, grin at me and blow me kisses, and once again leave me in dust and diesel exhaust.

I guess, in the end, I’m doing something right. He will be carrying that little love note in his pocket, and I’ll have my love note in my purse. Until the day he doesn’t take the note to school anymore, of course.

But I think I’ll keep mine for a little longer.

Alyssa Alexander is pretty certain she belongs somewhere sunny. And tropical. Where drinks are served with little paper umbrellas. But until she moves to those white sandy beaches, she survives the cold Michigan winters by penning romance novels that always include a bit of adventure. She lives with her own set of heroes, aka an ever-patient husband who doesn’t mind using a laundry basket for a closet, and a small boy who wears a knight in a shining armor costume for such tasks as scrubbing potatoes.

Look for her upcoming debut, THE SMUGGLER WORE SILK, from Berkley Sensation on January 7, 2013, and available for preorder at Amazon and Barnes & Noble . And come find her on Facebook and Twitter !