An Emotional Mess
I’ve done this before… You’d think I’d be a pro at this by now, that it would get easier each time. I certainly didn’t expect this to be so hard, and yet I’ve spent most of the day blinking back tears, the lump in my throat threatening to give way to the dam of emotions threatening to break loose.
I was admiring my Ashlynn Rose in the grocery store, 9 months old today, when I got the call. She was sitting up in the grocery cart, proud as could be and you could tell she felt so grown-up. I was enjoying her giggles as she watched her older brother and sister’s antics. Watching my middle children hop from the cart’s car to the aisle to their sister, and back again.
When I heard the phone ring, I looked down at the caller ID and since I didn’t recognize the number, I didn’t answer it. But a thought niggled in the back of my mind and I knew who it was. Sure enough, once groceries and Littles were loaded into the car, I checked my voicemail. I called the unfamiliar number back and started talking with the woman on the other end. Hudson’s preschool teacher.
Hudson had been on a waiting list for preschool and last we’d heard, it was still a full class. Imagine my surprise when she told us about the Open House the next day, and I asked, “So, he’s in?” She laughed and assured me that yes, not only was he in, his name was already on everything and they couldn’t wait to meet him.
We exchanged a few more details, promised to connect at the Open House, and hung up. When I told Hudson about his new teacher and school, his excitement was almost palpable. We discussed all the details on the way home.
“Mama, is my teacher a boy? Or a girl?”
“My teacher is probably Miss Benedict.” “No, Baby,” I assured him, “I’m pretty sure she’s going to stay Devyn’s teacher.” He frowned, “No, I think she’s going to be my teacher too.”
“Mama, what are my friends’ names?”
“I’m only going to play with the boys. Not the girls.”
“Reagan, you can’t go to school yet. You’re just a baby.” To which, Reagan promptly burst into tears and no amount of reassurances from me could soothe her little heart.
The rest of the day has been spent between encouraging Hudson’s excitement and curiosity over this major milestone in his life; reassuring Reagan that one day she’ll be at school too; and allowing my own heart to grieve the passing of time.
It begins anew. This letting go of yet another baby. Entrusting him to a new adult in his life and new adventures. But yet, my heart hurts. It feels as though it was just yesterday I was admiring his gorgeous, blond curls and listening to his baby giggles. It feels like it was just yesterday that I was dropping Devyn off at her first day at the same preschool.
He’s ready, I know he’s ready. I’ve never seen a child mature and grow as much as Hudson has this summer. He’s matured in every way imaginable… emotionally, physically, even spiritually. I blinked and he turned into a boy. He’s ready for this next step of independence, of making new friends, of playing and running with boys his own age. I can only imagine how much more he’s going to bloom this year.
He may be ready, but I am not. I’m going to miss my little man.