A total emotional breakdown, or, the first week of preschool.

the power of emotions vs. the power of of reason

Firstly, I wrote about rooting against Taylor Swift this week for The Daily Beast. Read it here.

I was able to write the T-Swift piece because this was our kid’s first week of preschool. He turned two in January and, apparently, you’re supposed to send your kid to preschool at two. This was not something I knew about and I was slightly alarmed when the milestone was pointed out to me.

Nevertheless, we sent our two-year-old out into the world. I wasn’t delighted about the development but I went along because A.) I haven’t written anything for money in months and I really wanted to and B.) this preschool thing is only nine hours a week — Monday, Wednesday, Friday from nine to twelve.

Monday was fine, he ran right in and sat down with the other toddler around the table, like he was the last guest at a tiny dinner party. Wednesday he was a bit nervous; and on Friday, it was a full-on meltdown at drop-off. I had to pry him off my chest, hand him to the teacher and then drive home feeling as though my guts were spilling out onto the steering wheel.

There for a minute or two, it really did feel like we were sending him out into the cold, cruel world. And as I drove home, I actually said out loud to the windshield, “where the hell did all these emotions come from?”

And then I freaked out a bit, wondering, wait, am I going to feel like this every time we send him out into the world? His first day of kindergarten, his first skiing lesson, his first filled cavity — is this the dark side of parenting? A successive series of life developments accompanied by heart-wrenching emotions?

hi, yeah, I just want this vibe forever please.

I know this gets easier for him, he begins to understand that preschool is a thing he does for a few hours on a few mornings and, actually, it’s kind of fun.¹ I’m just worried about the major first steps. My friend Cathy (who I usually believe because she’s a lot smarter than me) once suggested that the point of parenthood is to “enable your children to outgrow you.” But what if that’s backwards? What the point of parenting, at least from the parent’s side, is learning to outgrow your children?

At this point on the drive home, just as I was going through this waterwheel of emotions, my ability to reason kicked in.