Today was hard.

Today was a hard day.

It was a preschool day, which means I had to convince one of my boys that going to preschool is fun.

I failed.

We got to the parking lot at preschool and Owen refused to get out of the car. Then he played a little game of going between the front seat and the back seat so that I could not reach him. I finally get him out of the car and into preschool. Children are lining up outside the classroom door and hanging their things inside their lockers. Aaron does this while Owen stands down the hallway next to the drinking fountain.

I am sweating.

I know this is not going to end well.

The preschool door opens and much to my surprise, both of my boys walk in and put their little schoolbus into the basket for attendance. Just as one of their teachers starts to tell me a cute little story about what my boys said on Tuesday when they were practicing with their scissors, I look down and realize Owen is not in the classroom. He is out in the hallway.

I interrupt the teacher mid-sentence and go to the hallway. I bring Owen into the classroom and he immediately starts crying. Sad crying. He doesn't want to go to preschool today. He wants to go home. He wants me to stay with him at preschool.

I bring him over to the blocks and trucks and try to interest him in the toys. He is not interested. He is still crying.

I am sweating.

I walk him over to the playdoh table and try to interest him in that. For a second, I think he is going to pull himself together. His other teacher is there. She says it's okay if I leave. She can handle it.

I cannot.

I look at Aaron, who is playing so nicely with the playdoh. Now he is looking worried. He doesn't like that his brother is upset.

Again, their teacher tells me it is okay to leave. She practically has to pry Owen away from me. I tell them I love them and that I will pick them up after lunch. I can't look back. Owen is sad. I can hear him crying as I walk away. I turn around when I am out of the classroom and see that they have shut the door.

It takes everything within me not to turn around and go back to get him.

I am crying.

I try to go workout and my music will not play, so I listen to my thoughts as I walk on the treadmill. They are thoughts of doubt. They are thoughts of worry. Should I go back to preschool to listen in to see if he is still crying? I get home and try to busy myself to make the time pass by. I clean. I make blankets on the sewing machine. I do laundry. I worry. I wait by the phone wondering if his teacher will call to tell me to come pick him up. I hope. I hope he is okay.

I email his teacher. I explain our history.  I tell her I am concerned and tell her we have been trying to make this a positive experience for him. I ask for suggestions.

Time ticks by and I start to feel like I brought this on myself. We had a good routine going with me working and the boys going to daycare. They liked their daycare. I took time off of work to try to give them a better life. A life with less busy-ness and more time to just be kids. More time at home and more time with Mommy. Was this the right decision? It doesn't feel like it now.

This is hard.

Their teacher emails me back. She says Owen had a great morning! She says this is normal. She says she thinks we are doing everything right.

I cry.

Her email was so kind. So caring. She understands. She knows it's hard. I thought for sure she was going to tell me that preschool just wasn't going to work out. She reassures me it could still take awhile for him to warm up to preschool, but this is normal. Many kids were sad and tired today, she said. Instead of working on writing their names like she had planned on today, they read books and talked about how mommies and daddies want their kids to have fun at preschool but that it is okay to miss their parents.

She's done this before.

I haven't.

Why does our society make us think that if something is hard, we must be doing it wrong? That maybe, if something is hard, we might be doing it right??

I am still learning. I have a lot to learn. It is hard, this parenting gig. So hard.