Milemarker Anxiety

November 21st, 2017


We are angling for the girls to start preschool in January.  It’s time. Fanciful notions of a Waldorf-style homeschooling scenario aside, the reality is that Jon and I both work full-time, and the girls are crawling the walls every day. They need a place to go and things to do.

I started stressing about the logistics of this transition months ago. Specifically about how we’re going to manage to get them to school on time. Preschools unilaterally seem to start at 8:30am, which I’m sure works nicely for people who have to be at the office at 9. I work for myself, Jon works evenings, and neither of us is even remotely to be considered a morning person. Although our kids are, and wake up at a non-decent hour, the mornings are pretty sluggish around here from a parental angle.

I am not willing to get up earlier, rush, or be late. The only area in which I am willing to compromise is my personal grooming, which let’s face it, has never been a priority. I’m also trying to shave time off breakfast with easier options than our usual decadent pancake-and-bacon feasts. 

So far I have come up with: 

  • Peanut butter toast (always a crowd pleaser, but we can’t do it every day, and peanut butter has to be eaten before getting dressed, another wrinkle of complexity)
  • Pinterest-worthy muesli in ball jars (no one likes this mushy cold cereal option but me, but I am determined to push through)
  • Breakfast burritos made the night before? Is that gross?

This is pretty typical of me, to be fixated on the food situation when — holy shit — my kids are about to start preschool! I know this is an experience every single parent has, and really not blog-worthy, but like most parents, I suspect, it feels life-altering to me. On the one hand I am so excited. I did a loooooooot of research, cased the local schools, and accosted anyone I saw with a small child in public. I’m pretty sure this one woman might have taken a restraining order out on me by now.

On the other hand, my kids freak when I lock them out of the bathroom so I can pee in privacy. Will they really be able to handle preschool? I mean, I already work, so it’s not like I’m with them all day. But let me just say this: If they do sob, I come a-running. Right now, they know I’m just upstairs. And they spend all their days with either myself, Jon, or my mom. We don’t even have another sitter. 

I know this is a step we have to take. I also know that they are ready, and that it’s going to be great for them. And we’re lucky to live in a place with great preschool options.

With that curious mixture of excitement and trepidation, I’m counting down the days until they go.

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