The Beginning of Letting Go

It was a big week for our family as Jude began kindergarten last Thursday. Jude. Began kindergarten. And suddenly I feel like a huge chunk of my heart has been ripped from my chest and left to fend for itself in the big, cold, cruel elementary school world. I'm not sure why I was so emotional considering the fact that Jude has already gone through three years of preschool. But there I was, at the new parent meeting on his first day, trying to hold back my tears and not being very successful. Jude, on the other hand, was super excited to begin his first year at his new school. And when I left him sitting in his classroom with all his other classmates, I felt like a mother bear leaving her cub amongst a pack of wolves:

It's been five days and you might say I'm still adjusting. This morning, as I dropped Jude off at the playground where the kids play before the school bell rings, I kissed him once, maybe twice, perhaps three times, or ten. Then pointing to the big playground I asked, "Do you want to go play out there? You don't want to go, do you." and I was all ready to take him back home and inform Kwang that I'd decided kindergarten was overrated and unnecessary when Jude responded, "I want to go play." So I let him off to play. And writing this just now made me realize that I have given Jude an out literally every morning. But every morning, Jude has gone off, looked back at me several times and waved bye as if to reassure me he's okay. And every morning, I've been reminded that my baby is growing up and at times wants and needs to discover the world on his own.

I obviously need to get this out of my system before Jude realizes his mom could not be more embarrassing and asks me to drop him off at the end of the street the school is on.