Last week, I walked my daughter to her first day of kindergarten. We did all the typical first-day things, the new backpack, the special outfit, lots and lots of photos on our front steps, the Facebook share of that first-day-of-kindergarten moment in time. It joined my newsfeed of other first-day at school photos from friends – including the “first day at university” photo of a friend and his daughter, smiling from a lecture hall on a leafy campus. My friend is exactly my age – 40. And while I acknowledge I got started a little late on this whole parenting thing, it still boggles my mind that someone I went to high school with 22 years ago is driving his kid to a far-flung college campus while I walk my 4 year old down the street to kindergarten. Another friend touring university campuses with her daughter exclaimed: “How did this happen so fast?!” My reply as I prepared for kindergarten: “How did this happen so slow?”
The financial implications of the late start don’t escape me. Childcare for two small children amounts to about $2000 a month where I live. University costs – tuition and dorm fees and all the rest – are similar – maybe a bit less. Raising children is never really cheap, but both my old high school friend and I are in the more expensive ends of child-rearing. I also look at our situations and think: well, he was probably not as carefree as I was when I was 25 or 30. But he’ll probably be more carefree at 45 and 50 than I. Is one the better path? I’m not sure.
The first day of kindergarten at Claire’s school is one in which the parents are allowed to attend. Our small group of parents and kids were a diverse bunch – some young, some old. I was probably the oldest, but not by much. I have a lot of 40-something friends with two year olds at home – my cohort is one of elderly but happy parents. In my circle, the presence of a 40 year old with kids in university is the much greater rarity.
In any case, I’m thrilled with my late great entry to the world of elementary school parenting. I’ve waited so long to get here. My children are now doing things I remember doing – kindergarten among them. I remember my cubby, my teacher, the smell of tempera paint. Library, gym, drama and dance, it all comes back to me like it was yesterday. It was all a long time ago, and I suppose I should feel old. But I don’t. Walking my child into her first kindergarten class – I’ve never felt so young.