A Breath of Optimism as I Send My Youngest to Kindergarten

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As the back-to-school season rolls around, it’s easy to get swept up in the excitement. I know that feeling all too well. When my son, Ethan, was about to enter kindergarten, I went all out—juggling my part-time job, ferrying my two energetic boys to their activities, and attempting to maintain some semblance of order at home, I still found myself dedicating hours to hunt down the perfect backpack for Ethan’s big academic debut.

My search led me to every major store in town, from specialty shops to sporting goods outlets, and even a few luggage stores. When none of those options lived up to my idea of the perfect backpack, I turned to online shopping—Lands’ End, L.L.Bean, Amazon—you name it. Ultimately, I settled on a junior-sized, monogrammed, Caribbean blue backpack that looked absolutely adorable on Ethan.

The quest continued with the ideal lunch box to fit inside, followed by a thermos for the lunch box. Don’t even get me started on tackling the school supply list, which took me to five different office supply stores. I was determined that Ethan would have the exact requested quantities, brands, and colors deemed essential for his kindergarten success.

I even picked out a special first-day outfit for him and “suggested” we set aside his entire wardrobe for the first week in a newly purchased closet organizer. I splurged on a pair of Skechers sneakers that cost a whopping $45, knowing he’d likely outgrow them in no time—because all the other boys were wearing them, of course. And yes, I took him for a haircut, too.

It was exhausting, but I felt like I had everything under control as the school year approached. Fast forward three years, and my youngest, Leo, was ready for kindergarten. By then, I had relaxed quite a bit about the back-to-school hustle. I realized that if I couldn’t find the right Crayola box after a couple of stores, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he went with the 24-count version instead. When Leo declared he didn’t want a haircut, I let that slide too. To make up for my relaxed approach, I signed up to volunteer in his classroom and chaperone field trips.

Amid all this, I was still the team parent for both boys’ soccer teams, hunting for a new job, and even training for a half-marathon in my spare time. You get the picture.

Looking back, I often wonder why I thought that finding the perfect backpack would somehow make me a supermom. I’m not even sure why I felt the need to be one in the first place, but I guess those thoughts surfaced before my world changed drastically.

About two weeks after Leo started kindergarten, I found out I had a rare lung cancer. As a non-smoker with a history of good health, the diagnosis shocked me. Losing my own mother to lung cancer shortly before Leo’s birth added to my fears. I worried I might not be here to send my boys back to school in the coming years.

Fortunately, doctors assured me that the cancer was localized, leading to surgery, which I underwent that fall. I had half of my left lung removed, and during my eight-day hospital stay, I couldn’t see my boys. I didn’t want them to witness me in pain or hooked up to various machines. For the first time, I found myself not wanting them to hug me, fearing it would hurt. It was the longest I had ever been away from them, and I missed Joshua’s fall concert, which was a tough pill to swallow.

The post-surgery recovery was grueling, filled with physical pain and periods of deep sadness. I missed out on Halloween and was unable to drive due to medication, making me feel even more disconnected. Thankfully, my incredible husband stepped in to keep everything running smoothly, and I eventually began to recover, although it took a significant amount of time.

As another school year approached, I realized I didn’t recall doing the usual back-to-school preparations. The year passed quietly, and now, here I am, facing another back-to-school season. This time, my perspective has shifted. I no longer care what my boys wear on their first day or which character is on Leo’s thermos. I don’t mind if Joshua’s lunch box is the right color, and honestly, I might just send in unsharpened pencils, embracing a little rebellion—because I truly believe the world will keep spinning regardless of those little details.

Taking a deep breath, I choose to focus on what truly matters—hope. I hope my boys make new friends this year, achieve good grades, and avoid any bullying. I hope they do their homework without much nagging from me, and that I won’t receive any calls from teachers about playground incidents. But more importantly, I hope to be here next year, sending them off to school once again, with new shoes and unsharpened pencils tucked into crumpled backpacks filled with love.

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Summary

This heartfelt reflection chronicles the journey of a mother sending her youngest child to kindergarten, illustrating her evolution from a perfectionist to a more relaxed, hopeful parent. It explores themes of hope, resilience, and the importance of cherishing moments with loved ones.