Before Ishu started school, my brother-in-law and I had a conversation over the phone and he asked me if he could tell me one thing that might help manage my expectations.

My sister and Drew had enrolled Maya in daycare a few weeks prior and, based on the pictures they sent ’em throughout the day, it was going GREAT. I know there’s an age gap between Maya and Ishu, but I was desperate to hear anything that might make this transition easier on me.

I welcomed the advice.

He simply reminded me that it wasn’t going to give me as much freedom as I thought it would. And it’d be helpful to go into the experience knowing it wasn’t going to be life changing.

I took the advice. I knew that it’d likely make sense to me soon.

And then Ishu loved school. And my days were freed up. I no longer had to think about what to make him for lunch and ensure he had some veggies thrown in. I no longer had to be the one setting up or cleaning up an activity for him. The burden of stimulating, feeding, potty-training him didn’t lie on me alone.

It FELT life-changing to me.

But then yesterday that conversation came rushing back to me.

Yesterday was the first time Ishu was resistant to going to school. He was crying and repeating, “No school, no school.” He was pulling off his underwear and shirt and hair tie. Desperate to undo all the things I had done to get us out the door faster.

My usual tricks of scrolling through pictures from school, showing him the laminated class photo on our fridge, reminding him Mama always comes back were all attempted and shot down.

He was crying and resisting so much. Eventually, we managed to get it together and we walked out the door 45 minutes later than we usually leave.

Once we got there, there were no more tears. But he was a little hesitant to say goodbye. He clung to my knee for a few minutes. I bent down, kissed his little palm, and walked out the door.

I knew – logically – that he’d be alright.

His teacher would inform me if there was anything alarming happening.

But, from the minute I left to the minute I picked him up, I felt distracted. I sat through meetings, but couldn’t concentrate on any work.

It is this that Drew was likely referencing.

The emotional attachment to your child doesn’t disappear simply because you’ve plopped them down somewhere else. I was physically “free,” but I was trapped in my mind – and my heart – all day.

Of course, at pick-up, he was completely fine. Of course this is normal stuff. We all wake up having days we just don’t wanna go through our normal routines.

But, that conversation replayed in my mind a lot yesterday.

These emotional ties are permanent. No school, no babysitter, no long weekend away from my child is gonna give me complete and utter freedom.

WE ARE LINKED FOR LIFE, MAN.

And in some ways it feels so incredible to have that kind of attachment to one another. To know that my body is always going to feel a certain way when my child is hurting. And in other ways, it feels so overwhelming. That there can be a slight paralysis of my brain, my LIFE, when I don’t know what is happening in his day-to-day.

Maybe that’ll change. Maybe it’s a result of spending 2.5 years knowing exactly what he was eating, exactly what he was doing, exactly what kind of mood he was in. And now 8 hours of time can pass between drop-off and pick-up.

So, yes, I’ve got some physical freedom. But those emotions still linger within me and I’m pretty sure they ain’t going anywhere any time soon. Ha.

NOW MY LITTLE GUY IS AWAKE SO I MUST SIGN OFF FOR SNUGGLES.

HAVE A GOOD DAY!