The dreaded drop-off

I imagine the topic of drop-offs has been on the minds of many parents the past couple of weeks with the start of the new school year. No matter the age or school, drop-offs – and mornings before school in general – are stressful.

I was at daycare drop-off the other day and a mother with a young boy (about a year old) was struggling. He was crying “mama mama!” as she passed him over to the teacher. My daughter on the other hand, had already taken off her backpack and marched into the room without saying goodbye to me.

As I walked out of the building with this other mother she asked me, “Does it ever get better?”

“Of course it does, but the journey can be tough,” I said.

“I just don’t understand what is going on because it ebbs and flows,” she lamented as she made the motion of a roller coaster with her arm. “Sometimes he’s fine and sometimes he’s so sad. What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing,” I said. “Sometimes it just depends on the day. I’ve gone through the same thing. We don’t know what’s going on in their little brains.”

She smiled and thanked me for the reassurance and we both got into our cars to leave, but this conversation has stuck with me.

I can totally relate to this woman. It’s hard not to internalize and blame yourself for every struggle your child has. And when you look at other children, it’s hard not to compare. My daughter marched into her class without a care in the world, but this mother didn’t see the days where she cried for mommy and clung to my leg with big crocodile tears pouring out of her eyes. We’ve all been there.

Mornings in my home are tumultuous. I go at it alone as my husband is long gone to work by the time me and the kids are starting our morning tussle. Some mornings are better than others. But typically, by the time I get to my desk to start the workday, I’m frazzled, exhausted and dripping in sweat with my hair all over the place.

Getting the kids out the door in the morning is like a battle royale. Every morning I tell myself “I will defeat them and be the last one standing!”

To add to the mayhem, things have gotten trickier this year with my son starting pre-K at a new school. Now we have two drop-offs at two different locations. And since my son is on the sensitive side, starting a new school has come with new fears and anxieties, throwing all the progress we’ve made in the drop-off arena right out the window. We are essentially starting from square one.

When he and I arrived for his first day of pre-K, I was surprised at how many people were huddled outside of the school. I led him over to the line that had formed on the sidewalk. He tightly clenched my hand.

Getting the kids out the door in the morning is like a battle royale. Every morning I tell myself “I will defeat them and be the last one standing!”

As we stood there waiting, I began to realize all of the people in line were family members of the students. For some reason there were grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and probably even the neighbor there to see these pre-K kids off to their first day of school.

I couldn’t help but think this was a terrible mistake. The kids were hyped up that their family was there, laughing and visiting with Grandma and Grandpa, and playing with their cousins and siblings. Why would they want to go into school when they were having the time of their lives?

As I pondered this, the doors swung open and the staff came out to start directing the children to their classrooms. It was at this point my fears became reality. I saw the contagion of crying and screaming children coming toward us like a tidal wave we couldn’t escape. It was as if the children were doing the wave at a sporting event, but they were bursting into tears instead of standing up and throwing their hands over their heads.

I saw teachers and staff tearing children away from their entire extended families and ushering them into the building as they screamed for their mommy’s. What kind of horror film did I stumble upon?

I moved up in the line with my son and I could tell he was starting to freak out. And why shouldn’t he? Everyone in front of him was screaming, it must be scary!

He started clinging to my leg, grabbing on for dear life, as we moved toward the doors. When it was his turn to go in, he absolutely lost it. He started screaming and thrashing. “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! No!!! Mommy!”

We stepped to the side out of the line and I tried everything I could to calm him down. “You’re going to have so much fun. Remember how excited you were?” I pointed out his teacher. “Look! There she is! Your class is right there.” But nothing was working.

His teacher, a veteran with all of this and clearly more prepared for the backlash than I was, came outside to help. I thought this would calm him down. He’s met her a couple of times and really likes her. I thought it would be comforting for him. But he actually tried to run away!

We’ve had some rocky drop-offs in the past, but he never made a run for it. This was bad.

I saw the contagion of crying and screaming children coming toward us like a tidal wave we couldn’t escape. It was as if the children were doing the wave at a sporting event, but they were bursting into tears instead of standing up and throwing their hands over their heads.

I grabbed him and ushered him back to the door. He was still screaming “Mommy! No!” when his teacher appeared out of nowhere, stripped him off of my leg and essentially threw him into the building. I could hear him continue to scream down the hall.

I knew the best thing I could do was step out of view so he couldn’t look back and see me. I waited a moment and snuck one more peak. He was in the classroom by then and I knew I just had to walk away.

I walked back to my car with tears in my eyes. I didn’t see that coming. I thought maybe he would whine a little, but I didn’t think he’d try to run away. I genuinely think the circus created by those who brought their entire families tainted the mood.

Don’t get me wrong, I fully understand the meltdown. Not knowing what is going to happen next as an adult is unnerving. But for a child, with limited understanding and inability to control their emotions, it’s 10 times worse.

When I started my first “real” job, I threw up in the parking lot before going inside for the first time because I was so nervous. If it was socially acceptable, I would have screamed, cried and ran away too!

The next day, we went through what was going to happen, step by step, at least 15 times. We talked about what he was going to do from the time we left the house until he walked into his classroom. I didn’t know what else I could do to make him feel comfortable. I just wanted to make sure he knew exactly to expect.

I will say, it has helped. We are now a week in and at drop-off I get a wave and “Bye Mommy,” with no tears. Well, he doesn’t have any tears, I can’t say the same for me.