Today I found myself at the schoolyard amidst all those hobblyknob youngsters except this time I wasn’t one of them. This time, I was one elusive parent huddled among the classroom four corners. Little e was all jitters for this glorious occasion, and I managed to hold it together until the very end then I almost cried. Suddenly, it occurred to me that e has been attending “school” for three years, why was this any different? How could I be near tears with such a usual and customary occasion? We had done this two or three times already throughout his daycare/preschool career. I thought about it long and hard before I picked him up two hours after dropping him off.
I was probably the only single parent in the classroom of mom and dad couples. This was in no way a downer for me, but the toddles of those littler siblings was a bit dampering. I want one.
Since losing my job I have discovered something that I wasn’t fully appreciative of in the past, always attentive, but at a much stealthier pace, disallowing the full realization of it. My left-brain whispered to me, “He’s only four once Ms. whit.” That shocked me. Reality is, there are so many things in this life that we can recreate, reproduce, rethink, re-do, but our children’s childhood, that is not one of them. We may spend all the time in the world attempting to capture our dreams, provide, plentify life, but what is all worth if we miss out on a morning bike ride filled with laughter and hill climbing, or the colloquial phrase such as little e’s term “manajerky,” (referencing a turkey/mayonnaise sandwich). These were all the things I thought about while I waited to retrieve little e. The things I haven’t had much time to reflect on as of late. I thought about the times of my own youth, spent with my mother, who quit her other “assignment” to stay home with my sister and I. I know this time is fleeting, unemployed and out of school for the summer, but soon the hectic days will resume. I wish not to forget this moment, and the joy it has brought me. I guess today’s posting is less about happiness and more about the gratitude that fills me. Five. Six. Seven, Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven and into infinity and beyond he will go. I can’t stop the mechanisms of time (oh how I wish I could stay twenty-five forever and he four).
As I was bathing e tonight, in a sea of bubbly, his face full of laughter, “like my bubble beard mom?” “Oh, how I love it, just love it.” There will come a day when bubble beards are a thing of the past, so I plopped down next to the tub and there I smeared some lather across my own face afterward we conversed about tomorrow night’s soccer practice, his love of Coldplay (the band), and the weirdness of so many things his little eyes notice. It was truly joyful.