Last week, I was angry. I was so very angry at Labor Day for coming. At school for starting in September. At the summer for being “over.” Clearly, I wasn’t ready. And I’ve come to realize that I don’t like winter. Fall isn’t bad, but I’m dreading the cold, snowy days when we’re all bundled up, slipping and sliding as we walk down the driveway.
I don’t know, am I old? Cranky? I’ve never felt this way before. Maybe, come December (or October or February, whenever Fall “ends” and Winter “begins”,) I’ll feel different. Perhaps I’ll be excited for that first snow, for the snow ball fights and the winter bundles of scarves, hats, gloves, snowpants, coats, sweatshirts (gah! There is so much more laundry in the winter!).
But right now, I don’t want it. I want year-round pools and sun and running outside on the playground. I want park days, beach days and being able to send the kids on a run when they need to get out extra energy. I want camp, not school.
But. Here we are. School started for the boys last Tuesday (2nd and 4th grades) and for Little yesterday (preschool, yet again.)
Yesterday, I cried. I cried, I know, like I’m crying again as I write this. I cried because Little moved to the older class in preschool, out of the classroom with the teacher she’s had and loved for 2 years–even more, the same teacher we, as a family, have had and loved for 6 years. Yes, I’ve had six years of dropping off my kids into Rohna’s loving arms. That all stopped last spring, but I don’t think I realized it until today.
But my kids are big. They’re moving on. I don’t want to. I still want to watch my toddler be hugged and welcomed with Rohna’s morning hug each day.
I know. I hear it’s normal for a mom to do this. To watch her babies grow up, turn the big, heavy page into the next chapter of her life. It’s hard though.
It’s hard to watch.
This summer, we made the big decision to skip a year of pre-kindergarten and send her to Kindergarten next year. Despite all my recommendations to redshirt, we decided that Kindergarten would be the right move.
And then, this past week, we (okay, I) changed our minds again. Maybe we should wait another year. After all, as I always say, why not let her be a kid one more year? Because she’ll never have that chance again, right? (Ha! all these years of writing articles to convince others with summer birthday kids to delay their Kindergartner and now I’m talking to myself. Oh, the irony!)
Hold me. My babies are growing. And I want to freeze the clock.
© 2013, Julie Meyers Pron. All rights reserved.