A small classroom filled with teddy bears, names tags and poorly drawn pictures of sunshines and rainbows sits in a small, unassuming house on a quiet street. The sounds of children laughing and playfully sorting out there things on the racks and in the cupboards echo into the parking area, they are gleefully preparing themselves for another day that promises nothing but fun and happiness.
I sit in my car and stare into the rearview mirror, into the face of a blonde haired, blue eyed little angel that stares at the house in intense curiousity with a hint of fear. She shuffles in her seat uncomfortably and in words only I, as her mother, can understand, she utters her confusion while pointing one tiny white finger. It's the first day of preschool. A nervous day for any young mother and I am no exception. My first instinct is to high tail it out of there, find a beach and eat ice creams all day with the small person in my life, knowing whole heartedly that nothing can happen when I am around and find a great source of comfort in that. But this idea is a selfish one, a mother's way of shielding her child from the reality of the world and we all know how well that works out.
So fighting back my gut instinct I carefully remove her from the car and find myself clinging to her a little too tightly. She gives me an incomplete toothy grin and I can't help but smile back. As we step inside, the smell of baby lotion and fresh linen hits me and it has a suprisingly calm effect on me. My daughters eyes dart from one corner of the room to the other, she leans a little closer into me and eyeballs the teacher, who is talking in a high pitched voice. The sight of the ball pool excites my little one and she rushes over to see the sea of colours, calling me as she touches them.
After a few snaps of the cam, I start edging slowly towards the door, she instantly figures out my plan and comes running. Throwing her lily white arms around me, sghe starts with the quivering lip. The teacher sternly informs me that she will be "just fine" and that I should go. I know it's the right thing to do but when you're child is crying, logic seems to fade into the background. I rush to my car thinking of the tears running down her sweet cheeks and I find myself crying, ironically like a baby, in the car. As I composed myself I thought, welcome to motherhood!
