As you watch her making mudpies, serving tea out on the logs Jumping rope in Sunday dresses, Bringing home stray cats and dogs, While deciding what to wear that day, she leaves her room a whirl, You know the plan to make a woman, Must begin with just a girl.

She's much too small to be in Kindergarten. She only weighs about 35 pounds. Her little arms are no bigger around than the cardboard tube inside a roll of paper towels. When did she get old enough to go to Kindergarten? She's my baby. My last baby. I've found myself looking at other people's babies a lot lately. Maybe it's because mine is 5 and starting Kindergarten in two weeks. When her big brother went to school two years ago, I remember thinking this day would arrive much sooner than I could imagine. I was right. There was a panic associated with the unknown of sending one of my children into the public schools that has abated now. I no longer fear that my children are going to be swallowed up by the unseen monster that is the beauracracy of government-run education. No, experience has taught me that schools are just like homes...made up of regular people. In my son's two-year public school experience thus far, he has had a teacher I didn't like, and a teacher that I did. I'm sure my daughter will, too. But, I'm not as worried about that as I was. It's all about growing up. Sending your kids off to school is not only about their growing up, but also about your growing up. Each new phase of our lives, to this date, has brought change and maturity. It's been that way since we started Kindergarten ourselves. We've had to learn to adjust and adapt to countless numbers of new circumstances in our lives. And as mothers, it isn't any different for us when we send our children off to school. I suspect that most moms grieve a little (okay, maybe a lot) the day they send any of their children off to school for the first time. But, there's a special kind of sadness that goes with the finality of sending off your baby. The first time I felt this finality was the day I weaned her off the breast. I knew that I would never again nurse another child. It was a chapter of my life as a mother, and as a woman, that was ending. It was so final. And it was difficult. In retrospect, though, weaning her when I did was good for us. We both learned a great deal from making that change. We each grew and matured. And, looking back at the agony of sending my first-born son through the schoolhouse doors--and leaving him there--I can see that the positives have far outweighed the negatives, for both of us. Sending my baby to school signals the end to those days I had long imagined as a young girl...those carefree preschool days mothering my own small children. Going to parks, eating popsicles, teaching them the alphabet and colors, exploring this big, wonderful, world God gave us, seeing everything through the eyes of my children. It's a magical time, and I recall many occasions I would intentionally relish the moments. "Enjoy this moment," I'd tell myself. "It won't last forever." And, as with any life change, I'm sure that taking my baby into that same schoolhouse is going to hurt. I'm sure I'll cry. But, I am comforted to know, through these life's lessons I've already experienced, that when it's over, we'll all have grown up a little. Probably me more so than her. Being a mother is letting go, from the minute they take their first breath. It's about giving them wings and watching them fly. It's knowing that they'll keep flying back to you as long as they need to. It's knowing someday, you'll have to watch them fly away for the last time. Being a mother is learning to let go of our children and learning that we, too, in the process, have learned to fly ourselves.

©Copyright Leslie Austin 1998

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Leslie Austin was the editor/publisher of the Hearts At Home Newsletter for 4 years and is currently pursuing freelance writing.