That whiny you-know-what is never happy.
That’s what I imagine people are thinking after spending time with me. Or reading my blog.
Here’s a for example:
The preschool sent home enrollment forms for the 2011-2012 school year last week. And I cried. Not a boogers-and-snot cry, but a few fat tears did escape.
For the first time since 2007, I will not enroll my oldest chid in preschool next year. He’s going to kindergarten.
Whaaaaa.
But also? Whhheeee!
He’s going to kindergarten, which is all day, every day. I see a little light starting to shine down at the way, far end of that Mommy Tunnel. In the past five years he’s gone from a helpless do-nothing to a remarkably self-sufficient little boy. He fought me on all of it, and would, I suspect, gladly allow me to dress him still, but he can – and does – do it all for himself these days.
Yet… Oh my gosh, I long for my helpless, do-nothing. I can’t even write this without weeping. He’s just so old now, and so tall, and he talks an awful lot. And the real kicker? He plans to continue getting taller and older. Although I have heard that the incessant talking gives way to surly silence.
Every mother has experienced the holy crap moment – or several of such moments, certainly – a flashback to your child’s first days of life, when you cuddled a warm lump of wailing, rooting love. You snap back to reality, and that same child is standing before you, speaking in complete paragraphs, talking about how astronauts don’t float away in space because they’re tethered to the space ship. Tethered? Holy crap. When the hell did you learn to say tethered?
I always picture that scene from Father of the Bride, when Annie says, “I’m getting married. Dad? Dad? Did you hear what I said?”
But George Banks cannot process what’s going on. All he sees is little-girl-Annie, in pig-tails, with the strange words, “I’m getting maaarrried!” coming out of her sweet, tiny mouth.
One day, nothing more than mewling lumps. Seemingly overnight, kindergarten. The express train to adulthood. School, driver’s license, graduation, college, wedding… All at a breakneck pace.
As parents we’re left whiplashed and drooling in a corner, unable to understand why what seemed, early on, to be a painstakingly slow process, ended up going head-snappingly fast.
I feel glee at the growth I see at my house. I’m positively giddy with pride every time one of them masters a new skill or makes an emotional leap, like my youngest now saying, “Uvv ooo!” to me when the lights are turned out at night.
And then I ache. I yearn. I consider absolute absurdities like having another baby, because how is that we’ll never live through toddler-hood again? But wait one second. We’ll never have to live through toddler-hood again. Hmmm. Is that so bad?
You see what I mean? You just can’t please me.
I wonder…
:: Do you feel conflicted about your little ones growing up?
:: Can you share one of your holy crap moments?
Lapsed homemaker. Looking to hire a full-time housekeeper who will work for the sheer joy of a job well done and free coffee. Interested parties, DM please. 
Ha! I could have written this a couple of years ago when Jakob started all day pre-k. I was talking with my friend’s mother yesterday when I stopped in to meet my friend’s new babe (5days old)….and she asked me how Jakob was doing. I mentioned that he was going to be 6 in March. We continued to talk and the feeling went away. But then in the car on the way home it hit me. My baby is going to be 6. Holy Sh*t. Heartbreaking. He is becoming such a little man – so independent (and stubborn), he is grown up so fast. I had to stop the car and have a little weep session.
But then I look at him and listen to him and I am pretty proud of how he is turning out. LOL
A full day without your babe will be heaven! LOL I look forward to school day Monday as soon as I pick him up on Friday afternoon! LOL
hugs.
Are you kidding me, woman?
Do you know who you’re talking to?
I have saved their first toothpaste tube they ever used.
Feel sorry for me, very sorry…I shall have no reason to go on, once they fly the nest.
I know how you feel. I only have a 4 year old son and I’ve been waiting for the day where he could do everything himself (get dressed, brush his teeth, etc) and now that he’s starting to do a few of these, I miss him asking for help :(. I start wanting another baby, but then I think, do I really want to start over?
Yup…today when my 2 year old peed on the potty, I jumped up, squealed and then cried.
Not one of my finer moments.
I am continually blown away by how fast they grow. My niece? Who I’ve known since birth, is now 12. The other day she was wearing mascara and had straightened her hair and my head was all “12 years ago, your bare ass fit in the palm of my hand”…
Oh I hear you. I swear my ovaries ache when I think I’ll never have another baby. Then I remember I’ll have more freedom and they don’t hurt anymore. I so get this post!
Oh girl! You are singing my song!! Our oldest turned 12 over Christmas…12! He gets to drive in 2 years!! He just learned to walk….well, in my head. He was just a baby holding my hand and now he’s looking at girls (ahhh!), and hanging out with friends (boo!), and texting non-stop. IT went so SO fast. Enjoy every minute…..
I had a hard time on A’s first birthday, though I do welcome toddlerhood and it’s new…challenges..more than some other first-time moms I suppose. Either way, I can’t even imagine sending her to kindergarten!
Though the thought of all that time to myself eases the pain…
Such a great post, Missy! As someone who has seen their oldest AND their baby go off to kindergarten, let me put it my two cents. Hopefully it will ease your mind a little. 🙂 I won’t lie – that first day of kindergarten, I cried and cried. Second day, I cried even harder. It hit me on that second day that this wasn’t just a fun little camp that would be over in a week – this was life. From now on! It scared me to death! Third day, I went to Target. All by myself. That’s when the realization hit me. Our job as mothers is to raise our kids to be independent little creatures all on their own. That third day of kindergarten, I realized I had done it! I was reminded of that fact just a few weeks ago when I went to have lunch with my girls at school. As I looked around a school that’s somewhat foreign to me, I realized that during eight hours of every day, my girls are perfectly independent creatures – not only existing, but thriving outside of my protective walls. While it makes me sad to think they don’t need me as much as they used to, it makes me SO proud to think they don’t need me as much as they used to! I’ve done my job and I’ve done it well!
It’s hard to see them grow up. My one and only is going to be in kindergarten later this year. I suspect I will be weepy and all sorts of inconsolable when the reality of it sinks in.