Did you know that there is a cruel and appalling thing that happens to mothers called
mylastbabyisgoingtokindergarten? The ogres in the school system actually force this information down your throat in FEBRUARY, for pete's sake, even though you've been studiously avoiding thinking about it since last August. This really is happening, and apparently there is nothing I can do to stop it. When the ogres informed me of this completely unfair and unwarranted eventuality, I cried for a day and a half. I actually could not keep from crying any time I thought abou
t it. I don't remember the last time I couldn't keep from crying....I'm thinking the year was 1985, and it involved some unfortunate 15-year-old failed romance. Since then, I have stopped crying but there is a lump in my throat the size of Texas that I cannot seem to swallow. Every time I look at her (
oh the chubby cheeks, oh the eyelashes to die for, oh those sweet fingers and toes), the lump grows little bigger. Every First with Big Stuff feels like a great adventure, but every First with Small Fry is also a Last that I know will never pass my way again. I guess it is very unfortunate for her, to have the burden of all her mama's lasts. I think I do a good job of faking my enthusiasm....
Oh what a big girl you are, how wonderful it will be to get on the bus and go to school, yippee.... but I wonder
if she has any inkling of just how much the thought of all this is twisting my heart inside out. Thankfully, the Lord has given her the kind of compassion that astonishes sometimes. So perhaps she will forgive me. We have long established a conversation about growing up...I tell her she's growing up too fast, and it really must stop. I threaten to put a brick on her head. She tells me she's not a baby, but she will always be
my baby....This has sufficed well in the past, but I think the next few months are going to call for more. Drastic Measures, I'm thinking. Such as Avoidance of the Truth, Living in a Dream and Pretending Kindergarten Doesn't Exist. Wish me well.
Did you know that there is a cruel and appalling thing that happens to mothers called mylastbabyisgoingtokindergarten? The ogres in the school system actually force this information down your throat in FEBRUARY, for pete's sake, even though you've been studiously avoiding thinking about it since last August. This really is happening, and apparently there is nothing I can do to stop it. When the ogres informed me of this completely unfair and unwarranted eventuality, I cried for a day and a half. I actually could not keep from crying any time I thought abou
t it. I don't remember the last time I couldn't keep from crying....I'm thinking the year was 1985, and it involved some unfortunate 15-year-old failed romance. Since then, I have stopped crying but there is a lump in my throat the size of Texas that I cannot seem to swallow. Every time I look at her (oh the chubby cheeks, oh the eyelashes to die for, oh those sweet fingers and toes), the lump grows little bigger. Every First with Big Stuff feels like a great adventure, but every First with Small Fry is also a Last that I know will never pass my way again. I guess it is very unfortunate for her, to have the burden of all her mama's lasts. I think I do a good job of faking my enthusiasm....Oh what a big girl you are, how wonderful it will be to get on the bus and go to school, yippee.... but I wonder 
if she has any inkling of just how much the thought of all this is twisting my heart inside out. Thankfully, the Lord has given her the kind of compassion that astonishes sometimes. So perhaps she will forgive me. We have long established a conversation about growing up...I tell her she's growing up too fast, and it really must stop. I threaten to put a brick on her head. She tells me she's not a baby, but she will always be my baby....This has sufficed well in the past, but I think the next few months are going to call for more. Drastic Measures, I'm thinking. Such as Avoidance of the Truth, Living in a Dream and Pretending Kindergarten Doesn't Exist. Wish me well.
1 comment:
I wish you well.
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