By Michele Sbrana
I sent my youngest son off to kindergarten a couple of weeks. He is in an all day kindergarten program, so for the first time in eight years, my two boys are on the same schedule, which means I have six — count 'em six — uninterrupted hours to myself five days a week.
Many moms would look at me longingly, like I had finally arrived. In theory, I knew I should be excited. But mostly I was feeling an overwhelming sense of melancholy. I wasn't able to put my finger on why it was so hard. My kids had been in pre-school for three years prior to starting kindergarten and I have had part time work over the years. So why was this so difficult? There seemed to be something so final, so definitive, about starting school.
And then a woman, the mother of three adult children, said to me, " Sending my kids to kindergarten, especially my last one, was one of the hardest things I've ever done!"
"Harder than high school; college; marriage?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, " because it's the first time you're allowing someone other than yourself to be of equal influence. You're no longer the 'end all be all'. It's the beginning of them not needing you as much anymore. You're moving to the back seat. Their teachers and their friends will slowly become more of a priority in their life."
Well that did it. I began a survey of every mom I could find who had children high school age or older. And would you believe it? Almost everyone agreed. Kindergarten was it. It was the toughest! I actually felt better hearing all of these moms tell me this. Why? Because I didn't need to feel bad about feeling bad anymore! It was okay for me to be so sad. It was guilt-free crying! I could go ahead and let my heart ache! It was okay for me to sob on my husband's lap the night before 'the day' as I thought of all the various scenarios that might make Casey sad or lonely or afraid during those few hours away from the woman who brought him into this world. I didn’t want both of them to be away from me. I wanted them to stay little and play with homemade playdough and build with Legos forever.
Joan Wickstrand, a marriage and family therapist in Oakland, California, notes, "Our society does not allow people to grieve. Society tells us, pull yourself up by the boot straps and move on. You are tough, you can handle it. But grieving is a part of life, whether you are mourning the death of someone special or simply mourning the change of a season in your life. We need to feel validated as we take the time to discover and explore our emotions."
So you know what I did for those first few days? I allowed myself to simply be. If I felt like crying, I did. If I felt like laying on my bed and reading the whole newspaper, I did. If I felt the urge to get dinner ready more than thirty minutes beforehand, I did. If I felt like writing about my emotions, I did. If I felt like talking about it, I did.
Serendipitously, I hadn't scheduled much of anything those first few days, or the first few weeks, for that matter. Frankly, I hadn't even imagined my life without a kid either right there underfoot, or at least waiting to be picked up. It was odd, but gradually I began to cherish this new-found freedom of — if you'll excuse the self-indulgent cliche — "finding myself."
The biggest moment of this time of grieving, growing, transitioning, came when I realized that I could actually go and see a movie by myself in the middle of the day. I had never even contemplated such a notion! It was so indulgent, so luxurious, so silly. It was so wonderful. To think, I could actually do it without arranging for a babysitter two weeks ahead of time. I could simply plan it, execute it and experience it. And with hardly any guilt whatsoever!!
Thus began a new quest. I would think of things that I had never done before, and I would do them. My goal was one a week for as long as possible. Some goals were small, like trying carrot juice. Some were bigger, like eating lunch in restaurant alone. Some were downright humbling, like trying a kickboxing class. But that's okay. My list is just for me and no one else.
Now please don't get me wrong. I am all in favor of thinking globally and acting locally: supporting world relief organizations, helping in our kids' schools, coaching soccer, teaching Sunday school. I do all of these things. But what I have discovered through this time of growth and transition is that who I am can easily get lost. For nearly six years I've been totally wrapped up in the lives of my two adorable boys, but now I'm tearing open the wrapping, and I like what I'm finding inside.
I encourage you, whatever stage you are in, to keep close tabs on what makes you tick. Don't lose sight of who you are. It has nothing to do with whether you are a stay-at-home mom or a marketing executive in a Fortune 500 company. Our love for our children can cause us to forget that our own needs are crucial to our self-worth and, ultimately, to the well-being of our family.
So, moms, take some time for yourself. Dream some dreams. Set some goals. Take some chances. Grab a glass of carrot juice, and make a toast. To self indulgence? Well, yes. But more importantly, to being a healthy, happy mom!
Michele Sbrana (Mom of Riley and Casey) is a health consultant and free lance writer. She is passionate about supporting and encouraging Moms via http://www.MomsforMoms.com and can be reached at Msbrana@aol.com.
