First day of preschool....I only cried a little. Okay, a lot. I thought it would be difficult, but as I drove away with coffee in hand and only two kids in the car, I realized that for the first time I was allowing someone else to have a daily impact on my child's life, that I could only pray that the values he's been taught, the manners we try to instill, the kindness we ask him to show would be shown to others.

I realize that for parents who have their kids in day care or some other form of daily dropping-them-off-picking-them-up-later routine, this day might come easy. But for a mom who has invested every single day (with few exceptions), week in and week out, into her child, this morning did not go as I had planned. After all, I have been there-getting him up, feeding breakfast, playing in the morning, feeding him lunch, putting him down for a nap, getting him up, playing in the afternoon, feeding him dinner, getting him ready for bed, starting over the next day.

But now, with a week under our belts and as we settle into a new routine, I am finding out a few things. First, he doesn't miss me as much as I thought. And that's okay. Second, he is figuring out how to interact on a different level; in this setting, he isn't the big brother who can push his way through and be the boss. I drop him off and say, "Make good choices". I want him to treat the other kids kindly, to be a friend and share. We talk about that when he gets home, how to be a friend and participate even when we're unsure.

Third, I kind of enjoy my time with Jack and Avery. And I can't begin to count how many times I heard Jeremiah 29:11 this week. I know that for me, the plans God has include surrendering my children for His purposes.

I guess I knew this day was coming....and instead of mourning the past and wishing he was little again, I am marveling at how much he's grown and how proud of him I am.