Maggie started preschool last week. We were told when we applied that we had almost no chance of her getting in because of the long waiting list. I completely prepared for that. We were set to homeschool Kindergarten and enjoy this last year. And then we got an acceptance letter. It has been hard for me to take.

When I sent Jonas to preschool, I had no misgivings. Life with an unmedicated ADHD/special needs toddler/preschooler is absolutely draining. It isn’t draining in the usual motherhood-is-tiring way. It sucks your soul out and leaves you a hollow, sleep deprived, angry person who is deeply conflicted between feelings of all consuming guilt, exhaustion, love and being extremely pissed off. There are no medications (for the parent) that fix this. I know. I tried most of them. When preschool offered to give me four afternoons of sanity a week, I was on cloud nine. Jonas being a child who required constant (and I do mean CONSTANT) stimulation, the highly structured and activity driven atmosphere of preschool was great for all of us. He got to ping off other people and I got to go slam my head against a wall in peace.

With Maggie, the experience is totally different. Our life has evolved so much. Things are happier. Things are calmer, even though we are busier. We’re in the groove, and over the hump. I’ve learned this dance.

Now, I am experiencing what I think most moms go through when their babies grow into school kids and leave home. Pair that with my idealistic goals, the control freak at the wheel, and a general distaste and distrust for any government run educational institution, and I find myself smack dab in the middle of some pretty good internal conflict.

Is she really big enough? Of course. She could start Kindergarten if she were a week older. She can write better than some first graders, and the social lessons of functioning in a group will be beneficial. I see this.

But I don’t want to give my daughter over to some establishment where I have no idea how she is really doing and if they are squashing her creativity and her little spirit. I don’t want to be monitored by “the man” who runs all this. I don’t feel I should have to “prove” my aptitude as a parent by sharing my daughter’s medical, dental and family information beyond the very most basics, and they do ask for everything. I firmly believe this all falls under the category of nobody else’s business, even if I have absolutely nothing to hide.

I really, really hate the system. I think it has something to do with being military. The government already owns my husband, my medical records, controls where we live- I would like my children left alone.

But I crave some quiet time with Gabe, and the concept of a silent house and during his afternoon nap are so, so alluring. Time to rest, to clean, to enjoy my husband, to complete work. . .wow.

And Maggie, with all the upheaval with becoming a big sister, needs something that is hers and hers alone.

And when I get my quiet time, my productive time, I am better for her when she is home. I know this.

She is so ready.

I am the one with the issues, and so I’m dropping my ideal of the perfectly homeschooled preschooler that I had so easily adjusted to when I didn’t expect her to get into school. I tell myself we will learn and grow and play together every morning - and then I let go in the afternoon.

I let go.

Because I know it really is a good thing for her right now.

Yes. I have my issues. I know I’m neurotic and cranky. I know I’m idealistic and unrealistic and that I expect more of myself than is healthy and reasonable.

But I see others pull it off. People who are not me, do not have my children, do not experience the same challenges- and it is ok.

So I keep telling myself that.

I am doing the best that I can.

And when my children arrive home from regular school and announce that they would like to be homeschooled in addition to regular school, it makes me feel really good. It tells me we’re ok. Sending them off hasn’t made them value what they learn at home any less. It just opens up more opportunities for them, and at the end of the day they come home and they are ok.

For once, it is enough.