Here we go, yo.

So Sadie starts preschool tomorrow. We did the bagels/coffee/juicebox social last week. We did the one-hour orientation on Tuesday and met her teachers. We got her to bed early tonight and her outfit is all ready to go. In a few hours, I'll be holding her hand, walking her into her classroom, giving her a hug and a kiss, and saying "see you later, alligator."

As recently as 3 or 4 months ago, I could draw a lump in my throat just thinking about it, but lately I've been counting down the days. For some reason though, now that it's here, I have seriously mixed emotions. She's so ready. She is so excited. She's going to love it.

But we still have to get through The First Day.

The informational packet we were given at the orientation reminded me that (even though we've talked about it seemingly ad nauseum for something like a year now) "some confusion and fearfulness is common and the feelings of separation from parents are often painful and scary." Gulp. I actually hadn't considered the possibility that she might get upset tomorrow when it's time to leave her in her classroom. Up until today, I really hadn't given much thought to how that moment is going to play out.

It's new territory for both of us. We haven't done this yet. No daycare, no babysitters. The one time I was gone for a few days, she was with both Andrew and her Nana. I've left her with my parents and my sisters & sister-in-law for a couple of hours here and there, but this is a whole new ballgame. It really is strange to wrap my head around the fact that we won't be together all day. That's really all both of us have known for over 3 years. It all changes tomorrow and forever after.
School.
New friends.
New experiences.
New rules, new authority figures.
New emotions.
I'm glad we are easing into it. It's only a Tues/Thurs program and it's less than 3 hours each day.

Still, for two hours and forty-five minutes twice a week, I won't be there to answer her questions, tell her it's okay and help her clean up when she spills something, tuck her hair behind her ear when it falls in her face. I won't be able to help her blow her nose, distract & redirect her when she gets fixated on an obstacle, or remind her to use her manners. I won't witness what she says (or what is said to her) as she tries to make new friends.

I know she will do just fine in preschool. But tomorrow is a big day.

Here we go, yo.