A lot of the parents in our office are signing their kids up for kindergarten this month. But some have decided not to. Jenn, a Provider Specialist responsible for credentialing elder care service providers for our Senior Care Team. Jenn decided to "red shirt" her daughter – and this is why.

"But how does the sperm get to the egg?" my sweet little seven year old asked one recent Monday morning as I hurriedly applied my eye makeup.  "Well, Abby…" I began and carefully explained an extremely watered down version of the birds and the bees before shuffling her back to her bedroom to get ready for school. 

Abby has always been my inquisitive child. She is a smart, serious, and driven girl. She loves math, science, reading, and dreams of being a doctor and singer, as well as the next Gabby Douglas. She is also loving and kind and has a dimpled smile that will melt your heart.

A July baby, Abby was eligible for kindergarten in September 2010, soon after she turned five years old. And, we had every intention of sending her…until something just started to seem "not quite right." Really, it was more of a whisper that kept telling me over and over again that she just wasn’t ready. 

Abby was doing terrific in her second year of preschool. Academically, she was a star.  She followed directions, worked well with others, and was also quite independent. Socially and emotionally, however, a different picture emerged. At the playground with her friends, it seemed as though she didn’t always understand their type of play. Being the tiniest and youngest, her peers would constantly pick her up, as if she were a doll. When playing "house" she was always designated the role of the baby. Potty accidents were kept quiet from her teachers. And during class, her teachers were met with silence when asking her simple questions they were sure she knew the answer to.

I silently struggled with what I thought were typical issues of an introverted four year old and tried to brush them off as nervous chatter. But, when Abby’s teachers began gently questioning her readiness for kindergarten, I knew a decision needed to be made.

In my heart, I knew the right answer, but a slew of questions ran through my mind. How would I explain to Abby that her best friend, who is five days younger than her, is a grade ahead of her?  Would she be bored in kindergarten if she started a year later? What would she think when all of her preschool friends moved on to kindergarten? Would she be teased?

I remember her preschool teachers stressing three considerations which I found immensely helpful when making our decision:

1. They had never met a parent who regretted giving their child an extra year before starting kindergarten. However, they all knew parents who regretted NOT doing so.
2. Rather than being challenged both socially and academically in kindergarten, Abby would be able to focus more on her social and emotional needs her first year. 
3. If she’s socially lagging behind her peers at five years of age, think of how this will play out in middle school, high school and beyond.  

After much debate, many tears, and incredible advice from multiple sources, we decided on a third year of preschool. We have never looked back. A first grader now, Abby has excelled in more ways than one. Academically, she remains a star. She is confident as well as a role model. She leads her friends in play and exerts herself by sticking up for herself and others.  Older kids still like to pick her up, but she tells them to stop now.  

Once in a while, usually after hanging out with her BFF, Abby asks why Claudia is a grade ahead of her. For now, I tell her that different towns have different rules and leave it at that.  Someday, when she’s ready to know the real truth I plan to sit her down and say:

"Love Bug, you are one of the lucky few who got to have an extra year of preschool. Daddy and I feel that this year gave you a boost to become who you are today – a smart, strong, confident girl who will continue to chase your dreams of becoming the next Gabby Douglas or Adele. You might always be the tiniest in your class, my love, but your drive to succeed and your loveable spirit makes you shine brighter than fireworks on the 4^th of July. No, you’re not in the same grade as your best friend, but being one of the oldest in your class might just be the advantage you needed to make every one of your dreams come true."

Tell me, have you had to make this decision -- Or, are you in the process? What made you lean one way or the other?

Here’s a blog that I love from a woman I love even more. Kelly has been part of the Care.com team for almost as long as we’ve existed. As part of our Workplace Solutions team, Kelly helps place Care.com services with companies so employees can use us for free.

I’m sitting on an airplane. I have a three hour flight ahead of me where I’m supposed to do work and all I can think about are my kids. They were both up all night. My 5-year old daughter had a stomach bug and my 3-year old son had Croup. And I was running between them.

Why didn’t I wake my husband? I don’t know.

I got 3 hours of sleep. Most of which was in a toddler bed. And this morning I had to leave for a work trip. So as I kissed their sweet sleeping heads goodbye (why do sick kids always sleep during the day!?) and thanked my mom for being my back-up care, I felt that old beast of a shadow lurking over me again.

It was my Mom Guilt. I’d say she greets me at least once a day, often as I’m trying to be the best mom, wife, daughter, daughter-in-law and employee I can possibly be. And I hate her. She is my nemesis. "They need you" she whispers in my ear. "You’re their Mom," she says in the back of my mind as I get in the taxi and head to the airport.

This time my response was different. This time, I wasn’t taking it. I had to tell this lurking shadow to stop bullying me. This was my inner tirade:

"Back off, Guilt! Don’t tell me how to live my life. Don’t get in my head and make me feel inferior to the other moms in this world. My kids are doing great. My kids are loved and know they’re loved. They have parents and grandparents, friends, family, teachers and babysitters who take incredible care of them. They are thriving. They are sweet, fun, smart and happy. Yes, they’re happy, Guilt. So why do you invade my brain when I leave them on days like this, when meetings run late, when dinner is microwavable, when I have to leave my husband alone with bedtime just so I can get my hair cut, or when I accept favors from my family or SAHM friends  who ‘want to help’?

And why oh why don’t you invade my husband’s brain?

I’ve had ENOUGH of you, Mom Guilt. I’ve had enough."

And then I almost cried. (The poor cab driver!) Not only was I having a therapeutic moment, but I was also realizing that this guilt was me. And would always be me. It’s the inner perfectionist who got me to this place and will continue to strive for perfection, even though she knows it doesn’t exist. It’s the woman who idolizes June Cleaver, Martha Stewart and Sheryl Sandberg and will do whatever she can to be the next female role model for her children and yours.

And while I might try to tame this inner voice that makes me strive to do better next time even when I’m getting a promotion, apologizes to family when they don’t see watching the kids as "childcare" but as "quality time with the grandkids," and feels like a terrible friend and wife even though everyone else is busy too. I will probably always be the one who gets up for vomit and coughing fits. In a way it’s because I want to. It’s also my job -- I’m "Mom." These dark circles under my eyes and stains on my clothes are just the battle wounds from the best job in the world.

So, here’s what I realized on that plane trip: Mom Guilt is my fr-enemy for life. It’s a waste of energy to hate her, so I will follow the age-old advice and "keep my friends close and my fr-enemies closer." But I’ve got to watch my back ‘cause that chick has the power to take me down. If I let her.

Tell me, what would you say to your Mom Guilt if you had the chance?