Riley has been going to kindergarten for just over a month now. He adores his teacher, as do I. She is, in her own words, "fair but firm," which is a good combination. He has made new friends. As he strolls through the parking lot, it is common to hear him call out a casual greeting in a way that I, with my oh-crap-are-they-gonna-stop-and-make-small-talk-because-I-hate-small-talk mentality, cannot manage to pull off. And he is learning new things every day. I especially love to hear him rattle off words in Spanish.
Why, then, are there still days in which I have a fluttery feeling in my stomach as I drop him off in front of the school building? Sometimes I feel like chasing after him, scooping him up in my arms, and taking him back home with me just so I can be with him. Just so I can know what his day was like. Just because. But I don't (partially because it might look like a kidnapping, and schools are so safety-conscious these days, I'd be tied and tasered before I made it back to my vehicle). I feel like cornering his teacher in the hallway and demanding that she tell me every detail of every minute that I was apart from my son, and pleading with her to maybe be a little bit less of a great person so that I know he still loves me best. But I don't (again, because of safety issues - I'm sure the school board wouldn't be thrilled about me threatening an employee). I feel like sniffling on the ride home because things are going so fast; he's five already! Tomorrow he'll be getting a driver's license. He'll be able to vote by Thursday and I'll be a grandmother by next week. I want to shake Old Man Time until those stupid spectacles fall off of his over-large nose. But, obviously, I don't (shake Old Man Time, I mean; sometimes sniffling does occur).
Instead, I think I'll fit in all the hugs and kisses I can before he steps foot into the classroom. I'll grill him relentlessly about his day, until he finally sighs in exasperation and says, "I already told you that, Mom!" And I'll dance a little dance of joy when the district has a Professional Development day (whatever that is) because it means no school for the kids.
And I do.
1 day ago
10 comments:
Oh! I remember those feelings! Especially the wanting to know every thing that they did or said while they were away. It's so weird after spending 5 years knowing seriously almost every single thing they do and say to just NOT KNOW for hours at a time. Every day. You feel like you lost part of them.
But you get used to it. And then you feel sad when you realize that you're used to it.
There's always something to make you sniff.
I was with my 8 year-old nephew yesterday, and he was so cute when talking about school.
I imagine I felt only a very small fraction of what you feel.
I remember those feelings. I blinked and now my son is graduating high school in January.
Don't blink (just like the song), enjoy every last bit of it. It goes way too fast.
What Lisa said.
But BOO to kids growing up. They shouldn't do it so darn fast, even if I do love every stage of them.
Thanks for making me cry.
One more hour til mine comes home ...
for a minute i thought nat had started a blog :-)
it's so awesome when they grow up.
it's so scary when they grow up.
it's so humbling when kids grow up.
I'm always wanting a little time away from my toddler, but half an hour after I get it, I just want to hang out with him again. It's a weird little spell he casts.
Those feelings don't go away. Ever.
Except of course when the child has been conducting "science experiements" involving instant chocolate pudding mix and your washing machine full of whites. Then you want the child to go away. Far. Away.
I know this is how I'm going to feel. I already feel it and Miles is only in preschool.
I love this post.
I know just how you feel--love how you said it.
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