Skip to main content

The lump in my throat

I'm a mess. Trying to hold it together. But I keep catching myself lost in goopy, mushy nostalgia. I haven't yet pulled out the baby photos, but it's only a matter of time.

I put one of Sweet Boy's hand-me-down outfits on Baby J this morning and caught myself sniffling. Then later in the pool, I was playing with SB and found myself squeezing him (much to his chagrin) and reminiscing about the baby swim lessons we took there together. Not so long ago. This evening I had to leave the room as Big Daddy and SB laid out all his school supplies. And I snuggled with my big boy just a little longer than usual at bedtime, rubbing his head and back until he accused me of "petting him like a kitty" and kicking me out of his room.

All day there has been a lump in my throat and a churning in my belly. I'm not sure if the sobbing or the vomiting will happen first, but they're both there, latent, threatening. The thought of waving goodbye as he gets on that school bus Tuesday is more than I can bear.

Melodramatic? Maybe. Ridiculous? Perhaps. Over the top? Most definitely. But I can't help myself. It's kindergarten. And it's arrived way too fast.

Comments

  1. Deep breaths. It is or job as parents to try to raise our children to be independent and free thinking adults. Think of this as your fist big step in that process. What an exciting time in his life. Hang in there and if you need to shed a few tears it is okay. No one said being a parent was going to be easy.

    Christi

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A boy and his cat

Our backyard is a decent size and backs to woods. Every time a visitor steps onto our back deck, friend, family, and neighbor alike, we hear "What a yard! You need to get that kid a dog!" Apparently this is the natural progression here in Suburbia: house + yard + boy child + dog = happiness. Now, it's one thing to hear about our need of dog from friends or family who know us, but coming from neighbors and relative strangers it gets a bit old. My first response is always, Why do you think so? Which makes people hem and haw because they don't want to insult me by saying what's really on their minds: Because you're depriving that child of a human sibling , and he needs a friend . One problem: We're not dog people. I mean, we like other people's dogs, and I often think having a dog would be a major motivation to walk long distances regularly and get myself into shape. But a dog is like a toddler who will never grow up. They are needy, and they bark and poo...

Ottomania!

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about ottomans. A ridiculous amount of time, actually, given the number of other things I truly should focus my thoughts on. I find, though, that when the world outside gets scary (and scary is a truly relative term these days) I turn to online shopping for things I don't really need. Actually, it's more like online browsing; I rarely purchase. I spend hours searching for, oh, erasable colored gel pens or standing desks or all-natural curly-hair gel or the perfect black sweater. (Yes, these are things I've fixated on over this winter; I still haven't clicked "buy" nor settled on any of them.) This week, it's ottomans. By the way, my girl  BrenĂ©  Brown would call this behavior numbing . I'm okay with that. Because online browsing is way less detrimental (so far) than chain smoking, which is what I'd really like to do when the world is scary. It's a way to escape, to daydream, to focus on things tha...

Grace happens

Today Honey's roommate in room 364 at Maine Medical Center was discharged. Some other day I'll tell you about why Honey is in the hospital again, but this story is about the roommate because it's way more interesting. Let's call him Elton, because all I really know about him is he plays guitar in an Elton John tribute band and he's originally from the very northern part of England, bordering Scotland. (Or as Honey described it, "that place in England where the Roman Empire decided, nope, those Celts are crazy, and put up a wall.") Elton was in room 364 before Honey arrived, and what struck me immediately, besides his delightful accent and soothing Liam-Neeson-esque voice, was his gentle, good-natured manner. He was going through heck from a botched surgery and compartment syndrome - pain and gore and fear of losing the use of his dominant hand - yet he spoke kindly and softly to every person who came into his room. Every time a nurse walked in, Elton gre...