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

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

If the brain-mouth filter turned off...

"Mommy," he asks, reaching for my hand as we walk out of the grocery store, "wouldn't it be cool if we had some kind of a hat that when you put it on your head, you start to speak all of your thoughts?" His eyes are wide, hair fringing the blue. He's letting it grow until spring (exactly 21 days away, as he explained this morning) and he looks shaggy and wild. Like one of Peter Pan's lost boys in sweatpants and a Star Wars t-shirt. We've just ordered a cake for his birthday party - celebrating 8 years at a trampoline park this weekend. "Can you imagine it?" he asks, "if everyone could hear your thoughts all the time? Ha!" I love ideas like this. They pop out of his mouth in unexpected moments, little gems that generally begin with what if? or wanna know something? I hope his mind always asks those questions. But wow...can you imagine it? A hat that turns off that brain-to-mouth filter? What would he hear from me, right in thi

Lost between books

This is kinda what the inside of my brain looks like right now...a big see of books that don't interest me. I'm in a restless state between novels right now, and it's really uncomfortable. You know that feeling when you finish a really good one and don't know what to do next? I needed a couple days to process the book I finished last week ( Everything I Never Told You , by Celeste Ng), but then suddenly found myself without a Next Book. It doesn't happen often (I usually have 4-5 books going at once, all different genres and types), but every now and again I get stuck in this drift. Nothing really interests me enough to invest money and time in. So. Weird. I've spent way too much time over the weekend downloading samples to my Kindle, reading reviews on Goodreads, and perusing the library reading lists. Me without a book is like a guitarist without her guitar or a soccer player without a field to run on. I just feel a bit lost, even irritable. I'm just