Yesterday was The Son's first day of kindergarten. He's been so excited all summer that I hadn't really worried at all about him. Tuesday when we had orientation, though, he was very hesitant to enter the class... didn't want to meet the teacher... visibly upset. I stressed for the rest of the day over our decision to send him to school but when we got up in the morning, he was so excited again and as we walked up the stairs to school, all the kids swarming around us, the excitement in the air, the parents all walking up... The Son just glowed. His face was lit up, he was animated and could almost not contain himself. He posed for a picture with the largest smile I think I've ever seen in his life. He walked into his kindergarten class with barely a goodbye... and the door closed. I have to admit, I wasn't crying. I was maybe, at best, a little misty but more because of all the other parent's emotions around me than my own. I was excited but not really sad.

I left the elementary school and took The Daughter to her first day of preschool. I wasn't worried about her at all...she's been so excited to start. My heart was a little weak with her because I've always held the belief that 2.5 is too young for preschool and I've really had to bend my belief given her nature and her strong desire to go. She did great... in fact, she did awesome and she can't wait to go back.

When I picked The Son up, I did get teary. The idea of going to an elementary school to pick up my child was disconcerting. I don't feel like the parent of a elementary school child... in many ways, I still feel like I'm 21. I don't know what I expected to feel like but I've always seen the moms of older kids as more mature, put together, generally more... Nordstrom than I am. The Son loved school -- evidenced by the fact that he was up at the crack of dawn this morning for his second day.

With the start of school, I've had a lot of emotions about the stage of our life. I realize now that my baby years are over. I struggled a lot with this last year when The Husband decided to have his vasectomy... and I had to accept it. With that acceptance I chose to look forward to what is to come outside of the baby years and this feels like the first step to that vision. I'm looking forward to ski trips where I'm not stuck in a hotel room with two small children but, instead, we can all be on the boards together. I look forward to vacations on the beach where The Husband & I can sit next to each other watching our children frolick in the waves. I look forward to white water rafting, hiking... all the things that having younger children make, if not impossible, just completely unfeasible. It's not that I'm not enjoying having a 5 year old and a 2.5 year old. I am. There are so many wonderful things about this age but it is, for me, at least, an age of servitude on my part and little personal freedom. I like my personal freedom and I don't begrudge my servitude. I just want a little of both eventually and its the carrot dangling out there that we've taken the first step into the rest of our lives now. I feel like I can now start to think about the things I'd like to do with that small bit of freedom and start to formulate a plan.... I'd like to take teacher training eventually -- once I can get to some degree of accomplishment in the primary series but that takes a lot more dedication than I can give to my practice right now given my mothering requirements, work requirements and general family requirements. I can see that in a few years that goal isn't intangible... and I like to think about it.

Speaking of...last night was my first yoga class in 3 weeks...and it was good. The class was super crowded with nearly all new faces. I always find it interesting to watch someone who takes their first ashtanga class... they become mildy frustrated during the sun salutations -- especially when we begin Bs for they've just gotten the routine with As then suddenly it is switched up on them... then they struggle with their strength and frustration sets in...just about the time we finish and move on. Then about halfway through the series I hear the sighs and incredulous exclamations as we move into some of the more difficult poses. It is sometimes distracting to me but, for the most part, I'm able to tune it out as background noise. I am always curious to see if they come back...

My practice last night was good but limited. I tried very hard not to overstretch and so I chose a prep class instead of going to the ashtanga center. The prep class was good and I managed to throw in hanumanasana where the instructor chose to put king pigeon and happily touched ground on one side and near on the other. My breath last night was the most noticeable change for me though -- I was really in tune with my breath throughout the entire practice and, more remarkably, it was long and deeper than usual. I worked up a nice sweat but suffered from lack of strength eventually... that's the price I pay for a break now -- I don't lose flexibility, I lose all my (little) strength.