I dropped off our youngest for kindergarten this afternoon for the last time; today was the last day of school. I watched his little legs (spindles in shorts) carry him up to and through the front door of the school for the last time. And behind the shield of my sunglasses, I wept.
I have daydreamed about this new upcoming season for years, 14 years to be exact. When the younger three were even younger, toddling around, putting plants and electronics in their mouths, tap-dancing with no more naps, waking through the night so often I was convinced I would never again get a full night’s rest- during that season this one that is now upon me seemed like a far off vision, a mirage of sorts, mythical in its serenity and magic. And it’s here.
In the thick of being a stay-at-home to three little kids (and a bigger one that came along later- adopted) the days surely were long, but the years were short. There were plenty of old women I wanted to slap who came up to me in public places to smile at me sweetly while my kids climbed the walls (sometimes literally- less fun when at a library) and tell me to “enjoy every minute” because it was obvious they were a) blind and b) senile because truly, some moments are SUPPOSED to be forgotten (otherwise you wouldn’t be foolish enough to go up to a stranger in the thick of it and tell her to enjoy it all- what???).
Through gritted teeth I tried to heed their advice. I found ways to live in the moment and not wish it away. When our youngest was still nursing, I found a neighbor who watched kids from her home. She was heaven-sent; she watched our three once a month from 9-5 from the time our youngest was six months old until he was almost three. Kathy saved my sanity, gave me clarity, a chance to step back so I could step in fresh and with eyes open to the wonder of early childhood.
I did it. I did the newborn, the colic-y, the move to another state, the single parent while waiting for husband’s job to relocate, the newborn with a totally two year old, the midnight nursing buffet, the sweet tender midafternoon naps with a babe asleep next to me, her lips pouted and lined with milk, snow falling outside the window behind her. I did the pregnant with two toddlers, three under four, a need for life-lengthening surgeries, a new daughter, heaven-sent, making us a family of six when I never thought we would adopt. I did the errand running, grocery-shopping, Christmas gift getting, prescription filling, OB and GYN appointment going with three little ones “assisting”. I did the preschool shuffle, the field trips to apple orchards (5!) and pumpkin patches (6!), the story times, swim lessons, kindergarten registrations, kindergarten bus, kindergarten drive, kindergarten car pool, kindergarten bike. I did the “I need to be at three places at the same time” for kindergarten pick up, preschool pick-up and story time ending. I did the holiday parties, the Halloween parades, the preschool art shows, the Sunday School kindergarten graduation. I did it.
But this last year. This last, sweet, tender year. It was just me and Theo, every morning, partners in crime, getting groceries (he fit on the back of the cart, holding onto the handle, feet on the bottom, my arms around him in a mobile hug all over the store), reading books, going to the park, drawing mega cities in chalk on the driveway, playing basketball in the basement, I Spy books, library trips, coloring, puzzles, baking. We snuggled on the couch and watched TV. We visited grandparents, both at chemo appointments and at home. We went to school and did things for the big kids. We went to story time (This one is bigger than it sounds. I led story time which meant Theo sat through the same stories and crafts FOUR times. He was a terrific helper and incredibly patient.).
We had lunch dates, at least once a week. Can I tell you how pleasant it is to dine with just one child? Fast food, with and without play areas, sandwich shops, delis, sushi. We ate it all, with relish and delight.
When I tucked him in last night, telling him today was the last day of school and consequently our last morning together, he leapt out of bed and wrapped his arms around my neck, crying that he didn’t want it to end. Oh son, I am right. there. with. you.
What’s lovely about this is I still have summer. The younger three and I will have adventures this summer. Everyone is old enough for road trips, all day excursions, fun things. No more strollers, naps, afternoon quiet times. So though I see the new season upon me, the reality of it won’t hit until August.
In August I will start working full time. It’s the job I’ve daydreamed about for years. I will work full time from home, writing. I have two novels that I have started that I’d like to finish, and a pile of notes that might turn into a collection of essays. The time, peace, and quiet in which to write are upon me. And though I grieve for the end of this preschool season, I look ahead with anticipation at what the future holds. Bring it.