A New Definition of Worry

Pumpkin Head started junior high school this week. For him, it was an exciting new adventure, for me it was a repeat performance of the first day of kindergarten. It's funny that both milestones left me feeling exactly the same way.

Back in 2003 my baby went to Developmental Kindergarten (he has a late birthday, wasn't quite ready for the real thing). He was so excited to ride the bus, to go to school everyday, make new friends and have a bit of independence. I too was just as excited for him, I knew that my social butterfly would love school and completely flourish, which he did. However, like most moms, I expected that first initial day might bring on some tears. I could see it, him wrapping his arms around me and me pulling them off while telling him everything would be fine. It would be the first time he would be off on his own, separation anxiety was just part of the territory. I knew it was going to be rough.

When the day finally arrived I braced myself as the bus pulled up in front of our house. I knew it was going to be ugly, and boy was it! The bus driver opened the door and Pumpkin Head ran onto that thing faster than I had ever seen him move before. It was like he couldn't get away from me fast enough. There were no tears, no "Mommy, I don't want to leave you" pleas, there wasn't even a wave good bye, he was out! I don't think I ever cried so hard in my life. I could barely see the road as I followed the bus to make sure it delivered my son safely to the school. Heartbreaking, just heartbreaking.

Fast forward seven years and there I was again bawling my head off as I watched (from my back porch) my baby board the bus this time to take him to junior high. I didn't know I was going to react like that! I thought I was cool with him growing up, but what I have learned is, I'm not cool with it, not at all!

Here's the thing, it's like I've entered another realm. The next half. No longer will I be worrying about him getting hit by a car, I'll be worrying about him getting in a car. I won't be worrying about him making friends, I'll be worrying about the kinds of friends he has made. No more worrying about if he likes the sport, it's will he make the sport. I won't worry about him ingesting chemicals, now I'll just worry about him taking drugs. It's another game and I am no longer the star player. I'm on the sidelines watching him make the choices I hope I've taught him to make.

What I wouldn't give to go back in time and have him be little, to have them all be little again. Back in the day, older women would always say to me, "enjoy this, they grow up fast." Of course, this was always when one was spitting up, one had just pooped and one was having a melt down in the check out line. I would always think, "yeah, right." Were they ever! All I can do now is cherish what I've got left because before long I'll be saying to them, "enjoy this, they grow up fast."