Letting Go - One Field Trip At A Time

This time last year, I was a wreck. My baby, my eldest baby rather, was on his way to his first mother-less field trip. Younger sibling wasn’t invited, so I was left to stay home and obsess over whether the roads were too slick or if the mother driving him was another Diane Schuler in booze cruise mode. I even emailed her to ask if she actually had an alcohol problem.

When it came time to drop Conner off, I found the non-alcoholic mother that I had only hours before interrogated via email in the hallway before school started. I gave her detailed instructions on how to properly install a car seat - she has 3 children. I reminded her to “be careful!’ although her own child would be in the same vehicle.

Yes, that mother. It’s hard not to be that mother though in certain situations as I’m sure we’ve all done our fair share of complete and total freak outs for no legit reason.

Except that life is a legit reason, which simply pacifies our need to overprotect and love.

This morning, I went through our typical school morning routine. It wasn’t until 20 minutes before we left that I realized today was field trip day. No obsessing. No partially psychotic emails. All the chickens had their heads intact (although I did feel a bit frantic when, at first, I couldn’t find his field trip shirt). I didn’t even feel the urge to sit in the parking lot of the field trip’s destination. Rather, once at school, I uninstalled Conner’s car seat, lugged it up the stairs and into the hallway, dropped it off at the door, kissed him and told him to have a great day.

I confirmed with the teacher that they’d be back at the normal time and turned to leave with a pleasant “have a wonderful time!” and a kiss blown to my little man.

The journey we are all on is towards letting go. That will never be an easy pill to swallow, but the best news is that much of it happens naturally. As mothers and fathers, we understand that our children will forever be ours. Field trips, apparently, become easy. Which, I’m sure, means that overnight stays or weeks at camp are next. I’m prepared, I suppose. It doesn’t mean I won’t cry when he leaves or over pack him in case of nuclear fallout, but those things mean I love him. And really, that’s all we can do.