I feel like an evil mommy.  I just left my little snuggle partner in a blubbering mess on the floor for his first “full day” (2.5 hours) of preschool.

All the way in to the classroom he clung to my arm and whined that he was “scary-ied,” but forward we marched.  In the classroom he found his hook, hung up his backpack and proceeded to attach himself to my neck with a death grip.  Evil mommy that I am, I carried him over to the rug, sat him down and tried to comfort him.  With his back turned to the teacher, he begged me not to go with his big brown eyes brimming with tears.  I rubbed his back and promised I’d be back to get him before he knew it.  As I got up to leave he dissolved into a blubbering, choking on his own spit, puddle of mush.

By now, my heart is breaking but, seasoned mother as I am, I know that my staying would only make it worse so I turned and left the classroom, only stopping to peak around the corner at my miserable baby.  When the teachers gave me the nod to leave, I mustered up every ounce of restraint and left.

While I’m sure he’s fine now—these things do pass once trains, and snacks and bikes are introduced—I feel terrible.  Is this 2.5 hours of “freedom” 3 times a week worth it if I’m going to be sitting here counting the minutes until it’s time to go get him again? 

Realistically he’s an easy partner to have around during the day.  Right now we would be playing some trains, or cuddling to Diego or just having some quiet time.  Sure there’s the notion of valuable socialization and learning that comes from preschool, but since he’s already agreed to be my snuggle partner forever, does he really need it?

The sad part is that even though I feel terrible that he was sad, there’s a little part of me that likes the show of affection.  While I hate to see him cry, the thought of my kids entering their new worlds without even looking back makes me a little misty too.

I want my kids to grow up to be independent and strong, I just also need to know that they need me and will miss our time together like I do.

 
Maybe that makes me a twisted mommy rather than an evil one.  Maybe that just makes me a softy.  Or, maybe that need is just what makes me a Mommy.