June is a month of genesis in my home.
This Friday, my youngest will complete his kindergarten year. There will be a little ceremony and everything. The whole pomp and circumstance. A cap and gown. A graduation from kindergarten. From babyhood.
He is leaving the only school he has ever known.
He will be spreading his wings and flying from a nest that has surrounded him in soft, sweet downy warmth and nurturing since he was 18 months old and we took a Mommy and Me class. All the teachers and staff know him, and his little quirks (and some, not so little). They greet him as he bounces down the halls. He has been safe here, in this bubble that he has been fortunate enough to have been in.
But, it’s time.
Next year he will begin 1st grade in public school. He’s so excited. He thinks he is now a big boy like his brothers and sisters. Riding a bus and buying lunch are just a couple of things that he looks forward to. New faces. New surroundings. A new playground.
A new beginning. I have to let go. Breathe. Realize that he will always, no matter what, be my baby. It’s not him. It’s me.
Now, there is no stopping him. Once they start first grade, that’s when the years go by even faster. And before I know it, he’ll be starting high school.
Like my oldest son and daughter.
In two weeks, they will complete middle school.
No longer sheltered in a fairly safe environment where they know barely anyone who does drugs or has sex. And if they know them, they don’t hang out with them. Thankfully.
They are off to the big time. High School.
This is the last year that they will be in school with some of their friends. They will say goodbye and promise to keep in touch via facebook and text messaging. Phones are just so passe.
They will move on. There they will be greeted with new faces and new surroundings.
Harder classes. Harder kids.
The next four years are going to be full of decisions, both major and minor. I can only hope that, through their education and parental guidance, they are somewhat armed with their own mind and also, the confidence that when they need their parents, they can come to us knowing that we will refrain from judgement until any problem is solved.
Hormones at an all time high. And low.
Peer pressure about to become more important than listening to their inner angel.
4 more years of them living at home. Where, when once they walk in the door, they are safe. We can still kind of protect them. Or at least, that’s what we will tell ourselves for comfort.
4 more years until they become adults.
That’s all we have left with them, our eldest children. A tiny drop of time considering how fast the last 14 years went.
I’m just not ready for any of this. I’m going to put a seat belt on and brace myself for this short, bumpy ride and hope that it comes to a complete stop someday.
Besides, we have two more kids that will still be in middle school for the next couple of years. I guess it’s not such a short ride.
Oh sanity, where will you be and will you return to me?