First Day of Kindergarten Experience with Autumn

It's 6 AM, and honestly, I don’t even know how to describe the way I feel. Today is finally here. It is Autumn's first day of kindergarten. However, my excitement is masked by the regular days I am used to. So, in turn, today is purely  “a typical Keshia versus Autumn morning,” which really means: pure chaos, extra stress, and a mom brain running on fumes.

This isn't same first day that all the other kindergarteners had for a number of reasons. Nope. Our very own “first day” started a week and a half late because of NYC school bussing services assigned to the wrong school, a new administrator who went on vacay prior to setting everything up correctly, and, of course, the carousel that never stops turning, my daughter's attitude. We are always at a constant war before we even left the house.

Morning Routine Madness

I’ve been trying to commit to this new lifestyle—new beginnings, breaking old habits, choosing water instead of Pepsi, and swapping doom-scrolling for journaling and stretches. So, I started the morning with my 16 ounces of water, vitamins, and a quick read-through of yesterday’s journal entry. Writing anything new wasn’t happening; survival mode was fully activated. The 6:30 alarm meant to wake Autumn went off, but instead of heading to her room, I shut it off and started setting up my workstation like I didn’t have a child preparing for the biggest milestone of her life. Thankfully, she woke herself up and walked into the living room with the confidence of someone who clearly didn’t need me yet.

Then came the bathroom—enemy territory. Autumn took one look at it and immediately assumed potty training was on the agenda, which triggered full resistance. All I wanted was teeth brushed, face washed, lotion applied, and nails cleaned, but in her mind, the toilet was a trap. Potty training has been one of our biggest struggles because Autumn needs things done her way, in her routine, on her timing. Any deviation feels like an attack. There’s no forcing it, no shortcuts... just patience, repetition, and hoping the world gives her time to get there. We survived that battle, barely.

Next was the outfit war. Despite a closet full of options, Autumn wanted exactly two shirts and one pair of shorts—including a stained pink shirt she treats like Beyoncé-level couture. Once it went over her head, panic set in, and the cycle of tears and retries began. After several rounds, she finally accepted my choice. Mom: 1. Autumn: 0—for now. I tried to reset the mood with Gracie’s Corner’s “Back to School,” which worked until breakfast destroyed the outfit I fought so hard to win. Back to the bedroom. Outfit number two. At this point, I was exhausted and negotiating with myself.

Shoes were no easier. She reached for her Crocs—her ride-or-die footwear—only for me to veto the mismatched pair and enforce something school-appropriate. Cue the side-eye. Eventually, we made it out the door with a backpack, lunch bag, and teddy bear in tow.

Time For School

We left the apartment to wait for the bus.. after 35 minutes had passed, I realized there wasn't a bus. The school told me she would have bussing ready for her today, but I guess not. Since the bus hadn’t started yet, we had to walk—a major offense for an Uber-queen child who does not believe in unnecessary steps. Fifteen to twenty minutes walk that felt like an hour with her, multiple standoffs, and a lot of bargaining later, we arrived at school at 8:02 AM.

Somehow, against all odds, we made it. A brand-new school, brand-new teachers, brand-new kids. Everything was brand-new. Neither of us knew what to expect in the moment. Her classroom was small and cozy. Six kids total. Four boys, two girls, including her. The teacher, two paras, and a speech therapist welcomed her like she already belonged. They showed her the cubby, her desk, her space. She slid right in as if she had been waiting for this moment.

I stood at the doorway with tears rising fast. Seeing her happy filled me up and broke me at the same time. She forgot about me completely. I thought she might turn back, give me one last hug. Instead, my sweet girl walked over and closed the door. I cried right there in the hallway. Not from sadness alone, but from everything all at once. Joy. Relief. Pride. Heartbreak. She was ready and maybe, just maybe, I was too.

The Pickup Reality

When I picked her up at the end of the day, she came running out smiling, backpack bouncing, energy still intact. But something was different. The shorts she wore to school were gone. She came home in pants due to a potty training accident.

Just like that, I was reminded that progress is not linear. Independence does not erase struggle. Even on the biggest, proudest days, our kids still need grace, patience, and sometimes a clean change of clothes. She did not seem embarrassed or upset. She seemed fine, like it was simply another part of her day. And honestly, that taught me more than anything else.

A Park Stop and a Pause

Before heading home and back to work, I took her to the park for a quick stop. A little time on the swings and slides. A chance for her to release the day and for me to slow down and really see her.

She ran. She laughed. She climbed. For a moment, the stress of the morning, the accident, and all the emotions faded into the background. Then we went home. I logged back into work. And life kept moving.

Reflections on a New Lifestyle

So that was my morning—and my day. A new lifestyle that still feels foreign, a stressed-out mom brain, a war over shirts, Crocs, bathrooms, and routines that don’t bend easily. It was loud, emotional, funny in the most exhausting way, and at the same time, one of the most beautiful days of my life.

As I reflect on this experience, I realize that every chaotic moment was worth it. Each battle, each laugh, the tears, the accidents, the wins—every single part of it mattered. I’m learning that embracing change can be messy, uncomfortable, and unpredictable… but it’s also incredibly rewarding.

So, here’s to new beginnings. Here’s to the chaos of parenting. Here’s to potty training setbacks, outfit changes, park stops, and small victories that don’t look perfect on paper. If you’re navigating similar challenges, know this: you’re not alone. We’re all learning as we go.

Let’s celebrate the moments—the proud ones and the messy ones—because they shape us into who we are. And who knows? Maybe tomorrow will be a little easier, or maybe it’ll be another adventure.

Either way, I’m ready.