[Life's Bookmark] It's okay to cherish the "days you don't go." -- Paid leave gifted to my daughter

Hello, this is Teruteru.

In our home, we have two sisters with a six-year age gap: Mini-Godzilla (a second grader) and Yochi-Godzilla (a one-year-old).

Once again, I am delivering our family's travel memories as a gentle little story.

Perhaps the new school bag was a little too heavy for the small shoulders of a child who had just become a first grader.

Walking to school together, fingers that wouldn't let go, and the tears that flowed.

Because the bond between mother and child was so strong, it was my husband's unexpected "detour" that gave us the push we needed when we couldn't quite reach "that moment."

Today, let me tell you about the special "paid leave" I gift my daughter a few times a year.

Small fingers that won't let go

The spring my eldest daughter became a first grader.

My second daughter was born two months before that.

Regression to babyhood and a drastic change in environment.

My eldest daughter's heart reached the day of her entrance ceremony as unstable as a spring storm.

Although there was a local school commute group, my daughter's anxiety was strong, so I decided to accompany her to school.

Joining the commute group, it was a two-kilometer walk each way.

It was quite a tough workout.

The first week, I went as far as the school gate.

The next week, I went as far as the "shoe locker."

I was supposed to shorten the distance little by little, but on the morning of the third week, my daughter gripped my arm tightly and said,

"...Come with me to the classroom."

Even after I walked her to the classroom, my daughter's fingers kept clutching my clothes and wouldn't let go.

"I want Mommy."

My heart tightened at the tears that spilled over.

An unexpected morning brought by "pottery"

I exchanged a look with the homeroom teacher and left the classroom, feeling torn.

In the communication book, there were words: "After you left, she stopped crying and started getting ready."

Oh, I want to let her be spoiled, but perhaps my presence is actually what's unsettling her.

I couldn't help but think that.

Just around that time, my husband was on a one-year paternity leave.

From the next morning, I decided to take the plunge and pass the baton of accompanying her to my husband.

That day, my husband also went to pick her up.

The two of them didn't come back for a long time.

I thought, "Maybe they're just looking at flowers by the roadside," but my daughter came home with a beaming smile.

"I went pottery making with Daddy! I made my own rice bowl!"

It seems there was a workshop nearby that didn't require reservations, and the two of them had enjoyed a "detour" on the way home from school.

The next morning, the two of them left the house.

However, a few minutes later, only my husband popped back in.

"Huh? Aren't you walking her to school?"

"Yeah, I said bye-bye at the meeting spot."

I was surprised.

My daughter, who couldn't bear to be apart from me, had stepped out into the "outside world" so easily when she was with her dad.

The bond between mother and child is so strong that it can sometimes dull the "courage to let go."

This time, it felt as though a new breeze, in the form of my husband, gave my daughter a light push on her back.

"Paid leave" to avoid trying too hard

Now, every day she waves goodbye energetically at the meeting spot, saying, "I'm off!"

However, on very rare occasions, my daughter will murmur, "I want to take a day off today."

She doesn't give a specific reason.

It's just a morning where it feels like her heart has suddenly paused in the middle of a story.

At times like that, I grant my daughter "paid leave."

A special vacation, just like adults have—no, even rarer than that, just a few times a year.

After spending the whole day at home slowly recharging her heart, she goes back to school the next day as if nothing happened.

I don't know if this is the "correct" approach to education.

But I want to tell her that the "days you don't go" are just as important as the "days you do go."

The timing to let go, and the timing to pause.

Rather than adults forcing a decision, it is the child herself who decides while listening to the voice of her heart.

Perhaps all a parent can do is trust that decision and be like the "spine" of a book, a presence that allows her to close the pages whenever she needs to feel safe.

Right now, I have a slightly misshapen rice bowl that my daughter made that day.

Every time I look at it, I am reminded of that spring—a season of "independence" that was a little bittersweet and warm.

At the end of the journey

To let go of a parent's hand and take a step forward on one's own feet.

That is a wonderful thing, but it is okay to stop and rest sometimes.

Just as there are days in the long journey of life when you need to place a bookmark and close the book, there are times when you need a break to protect your heart.

Acknowledging the "days you don't go" is an act of trusting my daughter's own will to "want to go."

So that tomorrow morning, she can open the door with a smile and say, "I'm off."

I will continue to quietly tuck a piece of "paid leave" into my daughter's emotional bag.

▶P.S. I'll leave a "bookmark" for another day here as well.

#ParentingWorries #ChildGrowthRecord #BookmarksOfLife #ParentOfNonAttendingChild #SchoolNonAttendance #SchoolAccompaniment #ParentingEssay