First Day of School Cry Baby

There were tears in our house on the first day of school.  Not from my children.  From me.

My youngest has been promoted to a new school, and I’ve been distraught at the thought of having grown up kids in the house instead of my cute little ones.  This past summer, no one brought me a lizard, frog, snake or worm to admire.  I didn’t have to punch holes in a single jar lid to allow bugs to breath.  No one wanted me to read to them or buy them bubbles to blow.

Our school supply list this year didn’t even require crayons.

I’m not sure I like this.

Yesterday morning, I went to wake my darlings for the big “first day” and found my youngest, due to part nerves, part excitement, was already awake and fully dressed. He was sitting in the family room watching  . . . Toy Story 3.  It was the last 10 minutes of the movie.  The hardest 10 minutes of cinema for any Mother in my position to ever watch.

My children have grown up with the Disney Toy Story series.  This last installment was gut wrenching.  The main character, Andy grows up, gives away his treasured “Woody” and “Buzz Lightyear” toys, and drives away, without glancing back, off to college.  NOOOOOOO!!!

As I prepared the required Back to School Grits Casserole, I had one eye looking around the corner on the TV, and stood with hot tears spilling down my cheeks, onto the breakfast dishes.

I’m not alone.  My friend at church told me she’s having a harder time sending her daughter to high school this year than she did Kindergarten. When you get married, you talk about having CHILDREN. No one dreams of having TEENAGERS.  Why didn’t we think ahead?  Someone should have warned us.

Now, someone else told me they almost choked when their grown child first said, “I need to go home” and didn’t mean her house!  I didn’t see that one coming.  Does this ever end?

But as a final note, when the door opened yesterday afternoon, a big kid walked in and I got a hug.  An unsolicited, real hug.

I feel better.  For now.