On Kindergarten Eve...

About two weeks ago, it hit me. Like a pile of bricks.

Kindergarten.

The milestone of all milestones in early childhood. It's here. First steps, first words, zipping up zippers, big boy beds---none of them compare to the enormity of the milestone that is going off to Kindergarten.

What? How can this be? Though we have spent months trying to prepare our boys for what Kindergarten will be like, I guess I haven't spent much time trying to prepare my own heart, and I'm feeling an extreme sense of amazement, but also emptiness from sending not one, but two, both of, and my only kids off to Kindergarten.

It's true. It's a milestone for them, but feels like an almost bigger one for me.

I mean, wasn't it just yesterday that Dan and I spent our days praying for a child?

Wasn't it just yesterday, when I was sitting in my classroom that I got the phone call I was pregnant?

Wasn't it just yesterday that we held our breath and learned that there were two miracle heartbeats?

Wasn't it just yesterday that I held them, both, on my skin for the first time?

Wasn't it just yesterday, that we worried about apnea spells, feeding tubes, and monitors, and cords attached to impossibly tiny babies whose skin was almost see-through?

Wasn't it just yesterday we went through over 25 diapers A DAY?

Wasn't it just yesterday we tracked every pee, poo, feeding, spit up, and sleep cycle on a handy sheet of paper on our coffee table?

Wasn't it just yesterday that I seriously thought I was never going to sleep again?

Wasn't it just yesterday that our home was filled with more baby gear than actual furniture?

Wasn't it just yesterday we perfected our "bye-bye"s and pat-a-cakes, and so-bigs?

Wasn't it just yesterday we were running after 2 little chubby toddlers that never went in the same direction?

Wasn't it just yesterday that we were climbing over baby gates in every doorway? (see above)

Wasn't it just yesterday when I rocked each boy to sleep, with "key-keys" and pacis and laid them down in their cribs and tip-toed out, but I always returned just to watch them sleep?

Wasn't it just yesterday we celebrated going on the potty chair and wearing big boy underwear?

Wasn't it just yesterday we kissed them goodbye as we left them in the loving care of women named Tobi and Angel and Jen?

Wasn't it just yesterday when they wrote their names for the first time in the most perfect backwards letters?

Wasn't it just yesterday we played kitchen and choo choos and monster trucks and dress up and hot wheels?

Wasn't it just yesterday, that we were chasing after bikes without training wheels and cheering on their new found balance?

Wasn't it just yesterday we gave one more hug, got one more drink, or read one more book, just to make bedtime go a little smoother?

Wasn't it just yesterday they put their too big backpacks into their giant lockers and we wished them well for their day at preschool?

Wasn't it just yesterday that we watched them walk across the stage at preschool graduation and saw the next 13 years flash before our eyes?

Wasn't it just yesterday I stepped on a Lego? (ya, it really was).

The truth is, I am ready for this milestone, but at the same time I am not. All of these things really do feel like they happened just yesterday. And yet, tomorrow. Tomorrow is a sign of how far we've come. A sign we've made it. And I know, in 13 years at high school graduation, I will look back at this moment and say the same thing, "Wasn't it just yesterday our boys started Kindergarten?"

Life, the last year.

When I was little, all I wanted to be when I grew up was a teacher and a mom.

As a little girl, I played school in my basement for hours on end, where I had a fully set up classroom complete with borders and bulletin boards and stickers and worksheets that I salvaged from my elementary teachers on the last day of school. It was no surprise to anyone who knew me that I graduated college with a degree in Elementary Education and went on to teach for the next 13 years.

As a little girl, I loved playing with dolls. I idolized being a mom, and there weren't many places I went without one of my dolls in tow. I remember one time my brother and I went to our local park just down the street, me with my doll in a stroller when I tried to convince total strangers that the doll was in fact a real baby. Ha! I began babysitting at quite a young age, and most of my spare time in my adolescent years was filled up with babysitting kids in my neighborhood. People who know me will not be surprised to hear that in college, many of my friends in fact called me "mom" as I was the one they went to for things like help with making meals, ironing their clothes, helping them with schoolwork, or knocking on my dorm room door at all hours of the night for a shoulder to cry on.

My two worlds collided during my 9th year of teaching, when in fact, I did become a mom. It was one of the happiest times in my life as a new mom, yet one of the loneliest years of teaching I had ever had. I returned to work after 5 months of staying home with our twins, which was, to under-exaggerate, hard.  I felt trapped at work, while all I wanted to do was be home with my littles. Since I was pumping that year, any down time I had at school, including my lunch break, was spent locked in my classroom by myself, hooked up to a breast pump, where I would stare out the window and just cry, wondering how I would get through. I would compare myself to other working moms who seemed to "do it all" with such grace, and end up feeling even worse. And, just when I'd start to think I had pulled myself together for another school year, I ended up in the ER on the first week of school, not just once, but 2 years in a row--later learning that I was experiencing anxiety attacks and had to begin a daily regimen of taking anti-anxiety medication.

The boys (6 months old) visiting me in my classroom at school.

Over the years, I created a classroom environment that I was proud of!

The boys (2.5 years old) visiting me in my classroom at school.

I have always been a perfectionist, and I felt that I was never able to do both jobs-being a mom AND being a teacher the best that I could or wanted to. When I focused on one, the other would slip. As the school years went by, and my own children grew older, I found myself tuning in to traits of students in my class that other teachers often missed. I found myself caring less about test scores, grade books, and curriculum maps and more about how my students were feeling. I wanted to help them, not just with reading, but with life. While I would joyfully see 90% of my students succeeding, it was the 10% who struggled that would cause me the most concern. Some of my students would go home each day to awful situations that would keep me up at night, wondering how I could make an impact on their lives for the better, only to return to school the next day to have to tell them that they didn't achieve a high enough test score and then watch while their world seemed to crumble a bit more, right before my eyes.

I couldn't do it any more.

My classroom all cleared out, the day I left, with eyes filled with tears and overwhelming emotion.

This week marks a year since I have stepped away from teaching. A year that I have had the opportunity to focus on being a mom. It has been surprisingly...ordinary. Our days feel a bit like a scene out of the old movie "Groundhog Day," a somewhat repetitive time loop where motherhood and home ownership unite. My kids wake up each day to me being home, I do a lot of making meals and loading and unloading the dishwasher, they have gotten to attend preschool, play in the back yard, go along with me on errands, visit parks, have dance parties in our bedroom, be bored on occasion, and, well-- just be kids. The teacher in me still tries to plan lessons for the day, practicing letters or cutting paper or doing sensory activities, and sometimes they happen and sometimes they don't.

And every once in awhile, my days are filled with real "work" which has now taken the shape of being a birth doula to a few special mommas each month. It has been a leap of faith to venture down this path and leave behind everything I know from a "real" job as a teacher. Doula work is fulfilling in ways I cannot even put into words. To help someone on one of the most transformative days in their life is an honor I do not take lightly.

Sometimes my life doesn't feel real. I sometimes feel like I am living in a dream. For the first time in a very long time, I feel like the best version of myself, yet when people ask me what I do for a living, I awkwardly pause as I don't really know how to answer the question. My whole life I worked towards being a teacher.  And now, I'm just a mom. Just a mom. How does a mom convey her true "lessons" that she tries to teach everyday? The lessons of kindness, strength, courage, and most importantly love?

My boys (5 years old) and I, at home.

I am not perfect. I can guarantee you, it is not all nature walks and snuggles over here. The tantrums are as real as the dark circles under my eyes. I have not gone to the bathroom uninterrupted in I-can't -tell-you-how-many-months. There have been some quite ugly days and moments I am certainly not proud of. Days that I go to bed and I wonder if even I have shown kindness, strength or courage. I still have so much to learn. Is it possible that I am no longer the teacher, but the one being taught? Even I am surprised that my paths in life have led me here, to my most important work of all; being a mom.