The Real Reason I’m Crying at the Bus Stop

Picture in your mind the final scene in the movie Rocky.  Sylvester Stallone dripping with sweat and blood, puffy eyed, bruised and battered, more than a little dazed.  He’s just put up the biggest fight of his life and the crowd is going wild.  He only has the strength to cry out, “Adrian!  Aaaadriaaan!”

This is me after watching my 5-year-old twins clamor up the yellow school bus stairs on their way to the first day of kindergarten. 

I know the other moms at the bus stop are looking at the tears I’m unsuccessfully trying to hold back and thinking, “Awww.  She’s crying because her babies are growing up so fast!   She’s going to miss them so much and worry about them all day long!”

Not true.

My babies did not grow up fast.  This moment was 5 years 9 months and 11 days (plus 37 weeks and 6 days) in the making.  But who’s counting?

From the moment I start to miss them, I can glance longingly at the 6,849,521 photos on my phone.  I’ll distract my worried mind by climbing the mountain of laundry that has accumulated over the summer months.

I know this sounds callous.  (Oh!  That reminds me, I really could use a pedicure!)

So why in the world am I crying at the bus stop?

They are tears of pride.  Relief.  Celebration.  Astonishment.  Excitement.  Accomplishment. 

Tears of GLORY, ya’ll.  Tell me you didn’t shed a tear at the end of Rocky. 

Making it to kindergarten was my goal line.  Exactly 5 years ago today I was going batty trying to breastfeed two squirming babies simultaneously.  I had not slept more than 3 hours in a row for literally MONTHS.   I couldn’t tell you the last time I washed my hair or clothes.  People ask me how I did it and frankly, my dear, I don’t have a clue.  Kindergarten seemed SO far in the distance.

I saw all those First Day of Kindergarten posts in my newsfeed from veteran moms and I knew someday it would be our turn.  It seemed like such a rite of passage.  The end of the tiny human, need-mommy-all-the-time stage.  The beginning of the big kid what-did-you-learn-at-school-today stage.  At some future point, I was going to change from obsessing about nap schedules to juggling dance lessons and sports with homework.    

I know, I know.  Don’t wish these precious years away!  The days are long but the years are short!

You tell me the days are long.  I remember counting minutes.  The 59 minutes before bedtime are some of the loooooongest minutes of your life.  (Naptime minutes are the shortest.)

There was always a light at the end of the tunnel.  Kindergarten.  Kindergarten.  Just keep swimming.  Kindergarten.

This morning I brought my 2-year-old to the doctor and sat beside a mom of not quite 3-year-old triplets.  She was bedraggled.   The poor mom was so exhausted she couldn’t even sit up straight or keep her eyes all the way open.  I swear she was only semi-conscious. 

I looked down at myself and realized I had clean clothes on.  My hair and teeth were brushed.  I had taken a shower that morning.  I think I even ate breakfast!  How did I come so far in life?

Kindergarten.

And for the first time in my life, I looked into the eyes of that bedraggled mom and gave her “The Look.”  I’ve been the recipient of “The Look” on a few occasions.  Not a look of pity, or wistfulness.  It’s a look that says, “Hey friend.  I get it.  This is harder than you imagined.  You’re gonna be ok.”

Because Kindergarten.

Spoiler alert: Rocky didn’t win that boxing match at the end of the movie.  Didn’t matter.  What matters is that you have this lasting image in your mind of a champion calling out to the person that inspired him to keep going.  “AAAAaadriaaan!” 

That’s why I’m crying at the bus stop.  Crying while scrolling through my facebook feed of tiny-humans-turned-kindergarteners.  My tribe of twin moms who cheered me on every baby step of the way…we’re all taking pictures of our kids holding First Day of Kindergarten signs.  It’s far from the finish line—does that exist?—but I’m grateful to cross this milestone together. 

We made it!