Jitters

I wonder if every night-before-the-first day will be a struggle. I thought it would be less complicated this year, now that he has a year of kindergarten under his belt (or, more accurately, under his tiny little adjustable waistband). I thought he'd be ok now (maybe not fine, but better). And once again I'm Googling "dealing with childhood anxiety" on the night before school starts. Poor boy. I just want to make it go away.

We had a wonderful weekend — on Saturday the boys went to Grandma Patti's while Aaron and I saw an amazing concert at the State Fair (*we became huge Cloud Cult fans and have a newfound love of Doomtree after that show ... "Doomtree BANGARANG all you rappers sound the same, beats, sound the same, raps, sound the same ..."), on Sunday afternoon Grandpa Rick had a pool party and we hung out there for a few hours with Aaron's side of the family, and today we spent the afternoon in Forest Lake with my family. The sun was shining, the food was excellent, everyone seemed in good spirits. After lunch we took the boat over to the beach/park area. The kids played on the playground before we walked over to a little gelato shop on Main Street. Once we got inside the shop, Adam turned white as a ghost.
"I don't feel so good," he announced as he sat on the floor.
"Do you feel like you're going to throw up?" (How many times have I asked this question?)
He yawned, lied down, then covered his eyes with the crook of his elbow. "My head is hot," he whimpered.
Oh no.
We walked back to the lake, called my dad to retrieve us (he was fishing with my brothers), and waited in the shade. Ben was oblivious. Adam looked miserable.
When my dad pulled up to the dock, Aaron actually carried Adam to the pontoon. He looked so fragile.
Shortly after we headed back, Adam groaned "I think I'm gonna throw up."
Thankfully, there was a plastic bag on board. My dad hurried back to shore (as fast as you can hurry on a crowded lake), Adam sitting in Aaron's lap, retching into the bag for the majority of the ride.
Once we got back to the air-conditioned comfort of my parents' house, he crawled into their bed and passed out in record time. It had been hot today, was he out in the sun too long? He definitely doesn't drink enough water, was he dehydrated? Did he eat enough today?
Tomorrow is the first day of school. Everyone was asking him about first grade.
Bingo.
There it was. The root of our problems. ANXIETY.
I used to think the anxiety caused him to throw up, but now I think maybe my mom was right when she thought he was getting migraines because of stress. (or whatever triggers them when you're a kid)
My family got into a lengthy discussion about migraines while Adam slept. My mom has them. My aunt has them. My aunt's boyfriend used to get them. I've had them (but only two, THANK GOD. Those two were bad enough!!!). My friend A told me her husband started getting them at Adam's age, and threw up every year before the start of school. She told me what triggers them, and what helps.
Nerves can do some wicked things to our bodies.
We got Adam home, coaxed him into eating a little bit, and BOOM. He was immediately sick again. He threw up over and over and over until I thought there couldn't be anything left to throw up and then he threw up again. It reminded me of how I feel before I have to fly (or, how I used to feel ... I'm not quite as freaked out anymore). It's hard to eat when you're that nervous and your stomach is one big knot. It's hard to concentrate on anything else. The only way to get over the anxiety is to do the thing that's worrying you and push through the fear.
Right now he's sleeping peacefully (or maybe fretfully? who knows?) in his bedroom next to ours, and I'm sort of dreading tomorrow when I drop him off at preschool, knowing how scared he's going to be. Why did I ever think it would be easy? Of course it's going to be hard for him. It's a new teacher, new classmates, a new routine. We've talked about it, what to expect. We bought new clothes, a new backpack, new shoes. We went to the open house. He asked some questions, we answered them. I didn't really prepare myself for this level of fear. (Again.)
I'm hopeful that the first day/week won't seem quite as scary because he knows the school now ... he knows the nurse (he spent many afternoons finishing his lunch in her office, and how many calls did I get when he threw up at school?) ... he knows the gym, the cafeteria, the playground. Most importantly, he'll be with his best friend Michael. I am SO GRATEFUL to his kindergarten teacher, Mrs. B, for requesting that they stay together for first grade (thankyouthankyouthankyou). I'm grateful that he found his classroom last week at the open house and his first grade teacher, Mrs. S, talked to him and let him know what he could expect on the first day (here's your desk, here's your coat hook, there's the bathroom). I hope she knows a little bit about his personality so she can help him tomorrow if he's struggling (will he be crying? quiet? sick?). I'm grateful that he'll know five sweet kids in his class of 24. I'm grateful that he knows what bus he'll be taking and the kids who will be taking it with him to and from preschool. Those are all familiar, and tomorrow, familiar will be his lifeline.
And yet it's heartbreaking to know that the most familiar people of all won't be there - me and Aaron. We can't "save" him from the Unknown and that hurts. Part of me wishes that Aaron and I could be there with him, holding his hand, whispering words of encouragement, giving him hugs, offering a safe place to return to when our beautiful little green-eyed boy is overwhelmed with all the NEW, but then he won't know that he's capable of doing it on his own. And there will be so many first days and new experiences ... I want him to have the confidence that he's going to be just fine. I want him to know we believe in him.
Tomorrow—all day long—Aaron and I will be sending him all the love in the world, hoping he remembers to stop and breathe, to relax, to EAT, to smile, to laugh, to have a little fun with his old friends (and maybe even make some new ones).

Every day will get a little easier.

Ben, on the other hand, hasn't said anything about preschool and his new teacher and class tomorrow other than "Oh yeah, I'll have a new teacher, she's the one with the yellow hair" and "Now we'll be on the one side of the room with the two rats, Little Girl and Big Boy, which is kinda mixed up because Little Girl is big and Big Boy is little."