Of cementing teeth

I find myself struggling with one of my fundamental parenting beliefs coming to light. I've often said, maybe too casually, that "parenting is the process of letting go of your children over time."

Easy to say when two of my young children are essentially under my direct supervision every day, as charges in the childcare center I direct. They've been right there, with me, the Fly on the Wall, who'd buzz loudly when things could be better or different.

But things are definitely changing from within, and from without. I'm gonna need someone to hold my hand.

In this, the year that I turn 35,
-My oldest daughter will go to kindergarten. There was a dawning of her growth into another phase of her childhood around her 5th birthday last December. Despite the elongating of her features, and changing of her body, it was the cake with the bold number FIVE on it that screamed to me, "She's growing up, dummy!" Every day, just growing up. Around this whole period, I've learned so much about her...looking at SO many kindergartens that just wouldn't fit. I could feel their academic preparedness squeezing the creativity, and imagination, and Ana-ness out of her. Beyond the fear of not making the right choice for my little one, there is the fear of the move into big school itself. The move away from me, my eyes, my influence. Into a space that's all about her.

-This daughter of mine has lost a tooth. And the one next to it is wiggling. This was the tooth we watched grow a millimeter at a time. The one we celebrated, photographed, showed off, and brushed...the lone inhabitant of her gummy baby grin. I would rather her have cavities, I think, than proudly display the whole in her smile where her "baby tooth" used to be.

-My youngest boy, our wonderful surprise, has a tooth coming up in the same spot where Ana's jus fell out. And the tooth next to it is crowning. This is the tooth that we are watching grow, one millimeter at a time. The one we will celebrate, and photograph, show off and brush...the lone inhabitant of his gummy baby grin. *Sigh* Do you see where this is all leading?

-And my son Elliot, our lover and our fighter, will likely go to a program for 4 year-olds. He will be placed with typical 4 year old children in a school with a special needs preschool, in case he struggles too much. His teachers will have his IEP, and I'm to trust that it will be implemented. I will put him in the car, and I will bring him to his classroom, and I will leave him there for the day. Hopefully, someone will tell me what kind of day he had, what he learned, what therapies were implemented, if he made a friend. And I'm to trust that he is treated with compassion, that he will not be teased or harmed, that when he's stuck, someone will help him. When he can't hear, someone will notice. When he is sad, someone will care. The drive away from this place? I don't think I can make. I think I will be in the bushes, or apply to be the cafeteria lady. Almost everything I've done since Elliot has been about Elliot. And now, there he goes. And please don't tell me he'll be fine. And please don't tell me "parenting is slowly letting go of your children," because I won't be able to control my tongue. I don't know if I can let that baby go. I really really don't.

So what do I do, when cementing their teeth won't change this: they are growing, and moving slowly away from me. There is a hole in my smile.