Noah is now in preschool five mornings a week. Everyone told me that I would feel sad and would cry at the first drop off.
Um, I must be an awful mom considering I have yet to feel sad or cry. Instead, I have felt freedom.
Yes, I admit, it was kind of strange to leave him the first day, but considering he just went in and could care less that I was leaving, that kind of made it easier. Apparently, I have raised a confident boy who feels safe and trusts that I will return, so that's something.
I think my feeling of freedom is bigger than my feeling of sadness because I have not experienced this freedom in TEN years. Ten. Years. I am now going to the gym-alone. To the post office-alone. To the grocery store-alone.
Oh, the grocery store. I can now walk in, buy only what is on my list (including chocolate that NO ONE will know exists in the house but me) and not stop at the bakery for a cookie or ask the cashier for a sticker. Do I want to use a regular cart? A small cart? Carry a basket? Sure-does not matter because I am not pushing a huge cart that has a car at the front, that takes out customers left and right.
As someone who works from home, I am able to call customers and team members without a little (and loud) voice interrupting with comments like, "I pooped in my underwear, Mom." I am finding myself more organized and doing things like cleaning the house and actually putting away a basket of clean laundry.
While I am enjoying this new found freedom, I have to admit-the best part of my day is when I pick him up and he gives me that smile and runs into my arms. I know it is a very short time when he thinks of me as his hero and runs to me with joy. Perhaps the freedom we are both having is making us appreciate each other just a little bit more.