When chatting with another mother at daycare today who has a daughter Jane's age, I realized that Jane will be moving up to the preschool room (UPSTAIRS OMG) (versus, you know, downstairs, where she has been thus far) (SHUT UP, it's a big deal) in July when she turns three, rather than in September, like I thought.
Why is this making me so sad? Why did I have to fight the lump in my throat when the mom was telling me this (her daughter is a month older than Jane, so she is moving upstairs next week). These room transitions have been such a big deal for Jane - and the most recent one last fall was super-traumatic for her, and thus, for us all - and I am hoping hoping triple hoping that this next move is easier and more positive for her. Apparently the kids get really excited about going upstairs - but my mind is all cluttered with thoughts of her friends are in her current room and it's what she knows and she loooooves Miss Sharon and they only have one teacher per 10 students up there and what if she needs help and what if she gets lost in the crowd and what if, what if, what if.
Of course I know she will be fine. She's such a big girl now. Yes, we are still having trouble with potty training and the bedtime routine, but she looks different. She talks. so. much. She's losing her baby fat (not all of it, thank God). She loves Dora and birthdays and grapes and school buses and singing her ABCs. She's such a....kid. So why am I so sad?
I am still the number one person in her life. She loves me the most (and Greg too, of course). She wants to be with me the most. She still screams "MOMMY!!!!" when she sees me come in to pick her up at the end of the day. She holds my ear to comfort her. How much time do I have left of this? A year? Two, absolutely tops?
How is this happening so fast?