This week my daughter Georgia slowly transitioned into Junior Kindergarten. It’s been a whirlwind month, as we all adjust to this new phase in life with Georgia at school each day.
I’ve also had some of my own adjusting to do. For the last four years Georgia has been by my side, and now she’s gone for six hours each day, out of my reach. I’m constantly wondering what she’s doing, when I return home from drop off I wonder if she’s settled into class, when I eat lunch I hope her belly is full too, and when I have a quiet moment in my day I try and picture her playing with a friend, or learning something new.
The first day I dropped Georgia off I drove around aimlessly with my youngest daughter, Eloise, wondering how we would spend our day. I felt empty, like a part of me was missing. My purpose for the last six years has been to raise my children, and care for their needs throughout the day. Slowly that purpose is shifting, with two of my children off to school, and the realization that someday Eloise will fly the nest too.
With Eloise at home, I am still caring for my child for most of the day, but the dynamic has shifted, and the load was dramatically lessened. I’m able to visit with friends more easily, and I have some quiet time while Eloise naps. Shopping with an infant is much easier than trying to go places with an infant and a busy preschooler. Not to mention how quiet my house is now that it doesn’t have the constant chattering and conversation that comes with a four-year-old.
I was recently talking to my friend and fellow writer, Jesica Ryzynski, and we both agreed that motherhood requires that we constantly reinvent ourselves. She shared: “[As mothers] feel like we are constantly reinventing ourselves, and trying to figure out where we fit in, and what we want from life.”
Her words summed up perfectly my own personal dilemma these past few weeks. Where do I fit in as a mom now, and what ways am I reinventing myself?
I have more time now, a bit more margin in my day, but how will I spend that free time? The possibilities are endless. While Eloise naps I can read, write, watch a TV show, or do some chores, but it’s me who gets to take ownership over that choice.
I also feel like I’m going backwards in some ways, back to the days with a single child, one that isn’t independent. Do I go back to the play groups that I had abandoned in recent years? Do I go back to circle time at the library, and start a new way of life with Eloise?
Motherhood requires a certain flexibility, and I think all mothers can relate to this feeling. We make constant adjustments, whether it’s going back to work after maternity leave, or adjusting to life as we add more children to the mix, or finding our footing as our kids go to school, it’s a continual shift in lifestyle and figuring out exactly where we fit in.
For the next three years I have the joy and privilege of spending my days with Eloise, and I don’t want to take that for granted. These three precious years are all I have left of the preschool era. Once they’re gone, I won’t be able to go back. This time is a special and unique time in my life, and I hope to find my place as devoted mother, to all my kids, while also carving out a piece of my day, and my identity, that is all my own.
If I’ve learned anything from raising kids full-time for four years, and releasing them into full day school, it’s that I’m the one left behind, with space to fill, and an identity that needs reshaping. And perhaps the best place to start is by focusing on what I want, outside of motherhood.
What will I do with that blank space once all of my kids are in school? It’s my blank space to fill, and that’s a thrilling thought.
