My heart walking outside of my body

Last week I enrolled Ewan in a real, live preschool.  He will be attending twice a week for three hours.  I did this because he is so bright, and because he seems to be completely bored out of his mind here at home with me.  He plays better by himself than ever, often inventing, narrating and acting out Thomas the Tank Engine stories with the few trains he has, but he still gets very bored. I wanted him to be around some different kids close to his own age, and have some structured activities and learning experiences.  We were participating in a "co-op" preschool with some mothers in the ward that met once a week.  That worked really well for awhile, but lately it just hasn't been panning out as well, and I felt Ewan needed more of a classroom setting.  Today was his first day, and can I tell you how strange it felt to leave him there? Just the oddest, unusual feeling.  And there was a minor battle with the teacher about whether or not he should be in the four-year-old class.  He turns four on the 20th, and I know all moms say this, but he really is very smart and is beyond anything they would do in a 3-year-old class.  After a little back-and-forth between the teacher and I, she agreed to try it for one day.  He was ecstatic to go, and ecstatic to have me leave.  I've just never left him with anyone other than a babysitter I trusted as much as myself.  It helped that Natalie was there, and that I watched Shannon leave her, so I know everything is okay.  But still, it was just surreal and kind of sad.  Like I'm pushing him out into the real world.  I know, I know, I am totally melodramatic.  

I have rare time to myself because Bryce took Fynn to his follow-up appointment with the orthopedist in Fort Worth.  So I think I will curl up with a good book and perhaps some Coke.  (At 9 in the morning?!  Not really, but I thought about it.)  But first I think it's time to go have a good cry.