Thursday was the last day of 1st grade for Zack and when I woke up to take him to school, I totally did NOT expect to feel sad. A lot of moms would say it was sadness over the prospect of having to entertain an active child for three months, but no. That wasn't it.
I realized, yet again, my little boy is growing up.
It's all happening way. too. darned. fast.
And I am so not prepared for it.
Every milestone kills me. His first tooth, his first birthday, the first day of Kindergarten, the first day of First Grade. But I wasn't prepared for the END of first grade to bug me.
I think it might be because next year he'll be leaving the "little school" for the "big school". The little school, as he calls it, is only one story and he's been there for two years. He's comfortable there, knows everyone, and I've volunteered a lot so *I* know everyone, too.
But next year, he'll attend the other school on campus, or "the big school", which is two stories tall and houses half the 1st grade up to the fifth grade. Zack took a tour of it last week and he's excited, of all things, about the lockers. Which have no locks, according to him, but mom remains clueless. On many things school related.
Including, who his teacher will be next year. This year, there was a big upheaval, with the current principal moving to the high school, the principal of two years ago coming back, leaving a vacancy in another school, and lots of teachers apparently moving around. So we're supposed to "watch the paper" (which we don't get) or stop by the school "sometime in mid-August" to see where his name is posted.
Seeing how Type A I am, that bugs me, but I completely understand it. It is what it is.
(What? Me? Type A? You don't say.)
So the summer is planned ahead of us with lots of activities with my little guy. We're trying to hit all the Smithsonian museums we already haven't seen, visit the zoo again, and he has two camps -- one in percussion and one in clay. I'm saying prayers every day that headaches and other things stay away so I can give him as much of myself as possible. I don't know how much longer it will be before Zack won't want to hang with his mom as much, so I'm looking at each day as a gift.
Rick, my dearest of husbands, who's already raised two boys (now in their mid-20's) has been through this before, and tells me that Zack will never NOT love me and need me. But I can't help it. Zack is my only child, and each day is both the last day AND the first day. Does this make any sense to the other moms out there?
So here I sit, typing this while alternately helping Zack with his Legos, enjoying the time, enjoying life, and trying my level best to ignore any underlying sadness that tries to sneak in.
Lori Anderson designs jewelry for Lori Anderson Designs and also writes for An Artist's Year Off.