All summer long I had been looking forward to the kids going back to school...to getting back into a routine and to having a little time to myself. I was excited to have just one at home...ahh, the freedom...to run errands without feeling like I was herding sheep.
But, I have been very sad, and very nostalgic this go around.
Watching Carter hop out of the car and run off to join his buddies hurt my heart. I can't believe how old and big he's getting. It seems like just yesterday he was cuddled up against me on the couch watching T.V. and now he's asking about cell phones and I-pods.
And Quinn...she's in the third grade now and eight years old (and almost recently baptized...it's a sore subject...I can't let it go).
And then, sending my little Avers off to Kindi-garten about gave me a coronary. She's very bright and easily prone to boredom, so I thought surely both she and I would be ready for school. I was excited for her. She'd been acting like she couldn't wait...at least up until a few days before the big day. But then a she had to go and get all sentimental on me, saying things like, "mom, I'm gonna miss you" and "mom, three hours is a long time to be away", and "will you miss me too"? My predicted response should have gone something like, "frankly luv, no, no I am not going to miss you because three hours is barely enough time for me to get showered and dressed, let alone accomplish anything else."
Then she would most likely cry at my bluntness, and I'd try to soothe her by saying "just kidding honey"...even though I wasn't, "I am going to miss you too, but three hours will whiz by sooooo fast"...too fast if you ask me.
But, instead, I found myself responding much the same as Avery..."Yes, sis, I am going to miss you", "will you miss me too", "three hours seems like a long time, but don't worry, you'll be having so much fun, it will fly by"...then you'll be back home, safe, with me.
I'm not sure what has gotten into me. I am sentimental about pretty much everything nowadays. I think I am just realizing that my babies are growing up...and so am I. I am having a hard time accepting that.
Can I really be turning thirty-two? Have I really been married for almost a decade and a half? Is that really a crow's foot in the corner of my eye?
I used to huff and puff at all the kiddie toys strewn about the house, but now I find myself not wanting to put them away for fear they may never make an appearance again.
When I first began the journey that is motherhood, I remember people telling me "enjoy them, they grow up fast". Then, once their back was turned I'd roll my eyes at them. Now, I totally know what they were saying. And, I should have listened to that advice a little better.
I should have spent less time trying to hurry my babies along when they wanted to turn every gumball machine dial at the grocery store. I should have spent less time telling them to clean up their toys and more time watching them as they took in every new experience. I should have held on to them a little longer before making them get back in to their big boy/big girl bed. Crap, why can't there be a rewind button for those of us who are a little slow.
I can only hope that my hastiness hasn't permanently damaged my little babies. Hopefully, they won't come back when they are older and tell me how robbed they feel of their childhood because "someone" was always in a hurry, or making them clean up, or whatever else. Hopefully, I can make up for that lost time now, by showing my kids how much I love them and how much I want them to be just kids.
Well, I've reminisced enough. You know, this is way cheaper than a shrink, so thanks for listening, err, reading.
I'm off to have a slumber party with my lovies.
See what I mean. The kid all but jumped out of the moving car so he could go "hang" with his "homies". I'm lucky I even got one picture.
Hey wait, come back. Please...sob, sob.
Avers (lookin' a little anxious) and dad.
Avers and mom...(keep it together gurl, don't make mama cry in public).
Smiling...that's always a good sign. I take it the first day went okay.
Quinny, dad and Beckham. Not an ounce of trepidation.
All I can say is sorry...for the unflattering shirt, and the muffin boobies.
Ahh, he does has feelings...me next.
.JPG)
