I am beat. Exhausted. Worn out. Only like the last week of school and throwing my kid a birthday party could do.

And want nothing more than a nap.
My son is playing with his new legos quietly in his room.
But no way would I dare nap with my 2 year old on the rampage.
Because even when I’m awake she has managed to color all over herself, the furniture and the floor with sharpies.
Lock herself in her room.
Swallow unidentified pills.
And flood the bathroom.
And destroy a room in 3 seconds flat.
No telling what this girl could do if I closed my eyes for a half hour.
And so I can’t wait, until she can play quietly in her room while I get some much needed shut eye.

Or so I think.

There are all kinds of milestones I think I can’t wait for.
Like I couldn’t wait to be done buying diapers.
I couldn’t wait for a full nights sleep (and most nights I still feel that way).
I can’t wait to stop writing huge checks for childcare.
Til my kids can work the DVD by themselves (ok, they have been able to do it better than me before they could walk…but I think that is some crazy innate ability that all kids are born with).
I couldn’t wait until my kid could read – but now when I spell out words. He knows. And I have to be a little more careful with my text messages.
I still can’t wait until they can tie their own shoes, all get in and out of the car without any assistance and can’t wait for the day that I will be allowed to go to the bathroom uninterrupted.
And speaking of milestons, today was my son’s last day of kindergarten.
And the first day he walked out of her in his dress code approved polo and with his Star Wars lunch box and Lego backpack was pretty big deal.
I never quite figured out the drop-off/pick up line. I still hate PTA meetings. Once my kid’s lunch account was empty and thankfully a sweet teacher across the hall had pity on my kid in tears and bought his lunch. He sang and danced on the front row of the bleachers with the rest of the kindergarteners and then dogpiled afterwards. I snuck out to bring him happy meals on occasion. I went to the art show and saw his fat yellow hand painted chicken hanging on the wall of the gym. I took off for field day and sweated my face off in the stands. I had my first parent-teacher conference, as the parent. I stood there like every other silly parent and took pictures on my phone of the awards ceremony where every kid got the same certificate. We did actual homework on the kitchen table. We ended the year with a lot more stamps than signs (good days/bad days). And learned a lot. Unfortunately, still not how to tie our shoes. And I think his last report card said he should work on his skipping. A year full of all kinds of milestones. And growing up. And the sharpie lines are slowly but surely inching up the doorframe.

But today he came barging in the door from his last day. And what made me a little emotional wasn’t that it was his last day of kindergarten. Or even that I am not quite sure how I am going to entertain him and his sister all day every day this summer.
But that he jaunts in to my friend’s classroom. Sets down his lunch box and announces to the room that he has a loose tooth.

And I kind of didn’t believe him. Until he gave it a little wiggle. And suddenly. I wasn’t ready.

For him to have sweet little gaps in his smile. For first grade. For braces. For shopping in the boy section instead of the toddler section. For boxers instead of briefs. For him to not need me to help him buckle his seat belt or open his drink.

And I lost all kinds of teeth in kindergarten. I’d even bring them for show and tell before stashing them under my pillow. I knew this was coming. I didn’t expect it to phase me.But that little tooth that he keeps pushing around with his tongue, is going to fall out in a few days or weeks.
And then so will another. And another.
And eventually all his baby teeth will be gone.
Which is just a reminder that so will the baby that I sometimes still see him as.

And next year, when he starts first grade. A few things are for certain. He will no longer be the littlest kid in his whole school. And he will have an even sweeter smile.


Kate said...

Right there with you. It's the seemingly little changes that catch me off guard. The growing up, it happens too fast and too slow. They need too much or not enough.

Kristin said...

Oh my heart aches and is proud of you at the same time. Growing up is hard for kids, but I think sometimes harder for their mommy's. You handle it with grace and strong character and then share it here. Thank you for that. This is one of those posts I will come back and read in a few years and realize that you hit the nail on the head when my own little one walks down that path.

samskat said...

I think we all feel that way...I couldn't wait for walking, talking, etc etc etc...and now I look at H and see a kid instead of a baby, and I don't understand where the time went...

katy said...

Blub. I wish you hadn't made me cry at work this morning.