As my eldest son prepares to enter kindergarten this fall, I can think of little else. I’ve entered charter school lotteries, toured our zoned school and the just-out-of-zone schools that we could get bumped to if ours fills up. Anyone I talk to who has a child or even knows a child is sure to hear about my worries: Is Noodle ready for the chaos of our local progressive elementary school? Would team-teaching or gen ed be the better choice? Would the structure of a Success Academy be helpful or would Eva Moskowitz beat all the creativity out of him with her much-vaunted four-inch heels? So the other day when my husband off-handedly asked, “You signed up for kindergarten, right?” I had to shuffle my feet like a nervous preschooler. “Um, no. Not yet.”

I have four days until the DOE application deadline. Considering that I’m the kind of person who has been known to RSVP to parties after they’re over, four days feels like an eternity. Still, I know I’m playing with matches. If something goes wrong and I can't register, Noodle becomes a pawn of the DOE, placed wherever there’s an empty seat. I’ve come close to applying. I really have. But things keep getting in the way. Doctor appointments, school tours and writing are just a few of my excuses.

Just scrambling to find all the paperwork to prove that I live where I say I live has been surprisingly difficult. Who gets Con Ed bills in the mail anymore? Pay stubs on paper? Please. After weeks of killing trees and commiserating with other moms, I finally have my packet ready: birth certificate, a copy of our lease, my husband’s W2, and a not-so-nice letter from the IRS that, though embarrassing, has our address on it. So what’s holding me back?

Quite simply, I’m just not excited. What should be a wondrous rite of passage for my son has become a subject of anxiety and compromised ideals. At the very mention of the word “kindergarten” I let out a large sigh, feel my blood pressure rise and launch into an increasingly well-rehearsed rant. In my quest to ensure that Noodle’s kindergarten experience is perfect, I’ve already made it unbearable.

This is certainly an important transition. It’s the true beginning of his academic experience and yet another reminder that my little boy is growing up. As someone who loved school, I want to give my son the self-confidence and support he needs to find that passion too. Unfortunately, I'm a little disappointed by my options. Initially I was excited about our well-regarded zoned school. I also loved Success when I first saw it. But as time has gone by, my worry has taken over and nothing quite measures up to the perfect school for Noodle that I picture in my head. Trying to navigate the daunting world of special services has made things even more complicated.

But in all this I've forgotten the most important ingredient of kindergarten: joy. When I think back to my own kindergarten experience, it’s a mix of somewhat hazy, but magical memories: feeding our class bird; digging for roly poly bugs in the school garden; dress up; my first crush; making a gondola ride for snails with Chinese food take-out boxes and string; and, most importantly, my first writing assignment—a full sentence using the word up. I still have the yellowed paper on which I proudly scrawled, “I threw up and up and up.”

In my meager four and a half years of parenting, I have also learned a thing or two. The biggest lesson, and one that I continue to struggle with, is remembering that Noodle’s state of mind often mirrors my own. If I want to give him a chance of success in school, I need to curb the sighs and drop the rants. I need to make room for some excitement.

This week I’ve given myself a homework assignment: 1. Apply to kindergarten 2. Find joy in the process. The latter is by far the harder task, but I think I have it in me. After all, I went to kindergarten.