As school starts across the country, I watch as friends post pictures taken sending their little ones…babies, off to Kindergarten. Before I was a parent, I always thought, why the misty-eyed, tearful reaction? What a great milestone to celebrate! Entrance into school to make friends, learn new things, and explore that developing personality! Now, as my own son gets ready to start his elementary school career, I get it. It’s emotional watching your not-long-ago-baby heading off to independence.
Yet I feel so much more than melancholy…. I’m down-right scared. Nervous. Anxious. My baby, is almost just that, a baby… when it comes to independence. How is he going to make it what is viagra used for through?
I can blog all day about his wonderful therapists, his amazing special education teacher who is ready and willing to help in any way we need. Not to mention the fact that, Lindsay, Roa’s PCA, was hired by the District to be his paraprofessional for Kindergarten. I know, right?! Could it be much more of a happy start to his year?
I’m trying my best to be doing the “happy dance”. He gets to cialis online go on that bus and spend the whole viagra cream day with peers in an exceptional learning environment! Yet even as I type this, I feel shaky!
Will he make friends? Will they give him enough rest time? When he online cialis says “ouch” will they know where to look? When he eats, will they watch carefully, so he doesn’t choke?
Will there be bullies who tease when they aren’t watched? Will Roa have the confidence to stand up for himself? Will he have the endurance to handle the day? Will he focus enough online viagra-rx generic on the academics while he fights so hard to achieve the physical?
I ask these questions in my bed at night as a struggle to fall asleep. I avoid looking at the calendar and emails from the school because, it makes me think about it more. Back-to-school shopping ads and signs hanging in stores make a lump rise in my throat.
No, I won’t be a “helicopter” mom…hanging over him, calling the school for vivid details of his day, and quizzing the staff. But I may drive by to see if he has time to play outside on the playground…. If others play with him, or just cautiously around him. If he will struggle to do what the typical do, but know that he can’t possibly…and get that lost gaze that he gets.
I know that gaze, but will they understand? The team we have met with and talked and planned? Will they understand how much he means to me and the pain that I feel with his pain is so real?
I believe in the staff. I trust in them to care. But nothing makes this overwhelming worry go away. Early Childhood was a safe little family. This seems big and wildly foreign.
He is strong, he is brave. He will do fine, but will I?