My baby starts school in one week.
ONE FLIPPING WEEK YOU GUYS.
My baby is not a baby any more: he’s a grade primary student and I am six sleeps away from kissing my “preschool mom” days goodbye. It feels like yesterday when I visited our first day home with him, inspecting every corner of the play area and bombarding the childcare worker with questions. I can still remember waking him up the following Friday for a half morning spent in her care (with me there) to see how he did.
In reality, it’s been more than two years.
We’ve all heard the saying “time flies when you’re having fun” but the truth is that time flies, period.
Wasn’t it yesterday when I saw in the ultrasound room learning the sex of my unborn child? Wasn’t it just last week that he took his first steps? It’s almost unimaginable that five years could have come and gone so quickly, and in the same moment it feels like another lifetime.
On one of the rare occasions when he had an unhappy night, I remember wishing the time away. As I nursed him, exhausted and sore and overwhelmed with all that came with motherhood I wanted him to finish and fall asleep. I wanted him to be self-sufficient enough to get his own snack. I wanted him to be content with laying alone at night. I wanted him to put on his own shoes, zipper his coat, turn off the light, brush his teeth, wash his hair, let the water out of the tub, feed the cat, clean up his room, make his bed.
And then I got it.
Be careful what you wish for.
I’d be lying, though, if I said I’m sad to see him start school. Like many – if not most – parents, I think I’ve got a pretty smart and capable little boy on my hands and I am excited to see him learn and flourish and become the person he is going to be. And it’ll be tomorrow that I see him off to junior high or high school or college.
On one of the