“Tomorrow is the last day of school,” I said quietly to my husband last night as we sat on the couch reading books. We’d just put both boys to bed and were relaxing. I had attempted to get my mind focused on my book, to get lost in a fictional world, but my mind kept evading the words on the pages. I kept thinking about the last day of school.
“It makes me sad,” I continued when my husband didn’t say anything to me.
“Why? Because you’ll have to have them the entire time?” he asked me. I was shocked and angered by his pointedness. It hurt, I can’t lie, but I brushed it off as the tears started to roll down my cheeks.
“No. I’m sad because it’s another chapter that is written and closing. I’m sad because for some reason it is just hitting me that Davey will be 5 in just 4 short months.”
And there it was. My oldest, the one who made me a mother, is quickly becoming a big boy, a child no more, someone who won’t need or want mom’s hugs and kisses. Then there’s Henry, my demon child who’s an angel for everyone else. Well, he’s officially going into K2 AND on top of that is getting a big boy room! It’s just too much!
There are times, especially on days like the last few I’ve had, when I wish I had a time machine like Orson Welles wrote about. I’d want this time machine to take me back to the moments in my children’s lives. I want to get out and experience it all over again, not just relive it all through videos and pictures. My husband asked me if this meant I wanted to start over, to have another child? No. I don’t want that. I just want my babies to still be my babies.
As I picked the boys up from school today, I found myself choking back tears and trying to beat down that lump slowly rising in my throat. Henry’s teacher actually cried when he hugged her. As a matter of fact, he hugged every teacher and even a few of the kids. When I spoke to him this morning about it being his last day and not getting to see Levi, Tommy, and Rob again, he asked, “why?” and his little lip quivered. Shame on me for stirring up that emotion especially since it broke my heart a little and even more so when I saw the sweetness that is my Henry hug all of his friends good bye and exclaim, “have a good summer.”
Davey hugged his teachers, he hugged his classmates, and even managed to squeeze in a hug for another parent. As he was being placed in the car, one of the teachers asked if he was enrolled to come back next year, because as she said, “I just can’t imagine my school year without this happy face.”
I have my trying days with my boys, days when I want to throw in the towel, days when my patience gets the better of me. I have days when I just want to scream at the top of my lungs and then shout from the rafters, “I can’t wait for you two to grow up!” Am I really ready for them to grow up? Probably not, but I don’t have a say in the matter.
So, as we say, “so long and farewell” to this school year, I want to give a huge thank you to every teacher who has worked with my both of my boys, who have loved them, taught them, and treasured them as much as I do. I’m excited for K4 & K2 next year, but right now I desperately want to cling to their memories and adventures from this past year. I’m afraid that the winds of change may rip the balloon string from my fingers, their innocence and childhood floating away.