The summer before my first born son started kindergarten was one of the most emotional times in all of my life.
I cried the entire summer. And when I say that I cried the entire summer, I mean that I literally cried the entire summer. Sometimes I'd cry a little, sometimes I'd cry uncontrollably (think Sally Fields in Steel Magnolias.)
But, every single day, I cried.
I’d start off the day fine, and then I’d think about him not being home with me every day, I’d think about holding his little hand and walking him up to the door of his classroom with people he didn’t know. I’d think about how much it would hurt to not hear his little voice talking to me all morning long. I’d think about going to run errands and only having one little boy to buckle into a car seat.
Oh, the pain!
I’d call friends and cry to them. “I just feel like I didn’t do enough with him while he was home with me and now, he’s going to go to school for the rest of his little life and I’ll never get this time back with him and WHY DIDN’T I CHERISH EVERY MINUTE?!”
The day came and it was as bad, if not worse, than I thought it would be.
As we drove to his school, I remember looking at my son sitting in the back seat. His hair was combed perfectly, his backpack sitting in his lap. I could tell by the look on his face that he was nervous, but he was trying extra hard to be a “Big Boy” and not cry.
I wanted to turn the car around and take my little man back home. I couldn’t bear the thought of not having His Sweetness at home with me all day long.
When we pulled up to the school, I forced a big smile to put him at ease.
We walked up the walkway to his classroom hand in hand as we talked about how exciting this was going to be. “You’re going to learn so many things! And make friends! And paint! And have recess!”
It’s been 9 years since that day and I remember the moment in which I had to let go of his little hand to kiss him goodbye as if it happened 5 minutes ago.
Letting go wasn’t easy.
Letting go hurt.
And sweet Jesus in the heavens here come the tears. .
Fast forward to this summer—that same little kindergartner is now about to enter the world of High School.
I’ve been waiting all summer long to experience that same flood of emotions that I felt the year that he started kindergarten.
I’ve waited for the tears to start falling because my little boy is all grown up now and where did that adorable baby who used to sit on my lap and giggle at the faces I’d make go? And why have the years passed so fast? And OH MY GOD, only 4 more years until he graduates and begins a life of his own.
But the tears never came.
Then, this morning, I had to drive him to his freshman orientation.
On the way there, I asked him if he was nervous.
“No.” He answered.
Ah, teenage boys and their one word responses.
“Did you go to the bathroom before we left?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, if you need to go to the bathroom while you’re there, just raise your hand and ask someone…”
The look on his face made me stop mid sentence. He was seriously annoyed with me. Like, “Mom, I’m not a baby anymore, you don’t have to ask me if I went potty before I left the house.”
And THAT is when it hit me. My baby is going to high school. He’s not a little boy anymore. He’s a young man and he’s GOING TO FREAKING HIGH SCHOOL.”
I could feel the lump forming in my throat.
I could feel the tears start to form in my eyes.
I could feel my stomach began to twist in knots.
I fought back the tears, if only to spare my son the humiliation of his mother sobbing as she walked him to the gym.
It was really hard to keep from losing it as we were walking to the gym. As we approached the door, I thought “this is it, this is the moment you used to dream about. The moment where your first born son started high school-- except in your dream, you were the Hot Mom with smoking abs and not the Overweight Over emotional freak of a mother…”
And the tears became harder to fight and that lump in my throat started to hurt and I was just about to lose it when….
I noticed a bunch of cheerleader type girls lined up in two rows waiting to greet my son as he walked in the gym. I said goodbye and as he started to walk through the door, the girls started clapping and cheering and screaming. Like “OMIGOD WELCOME TO UR HIGH SCHOOLZ WE R SO HAPPY UR HERE WOOOT GO FRESHMAN!!.”
Now, if you knew my son, you’d know that he gets nervous when any sort of attention is focused on him. So, imagine the look of horror on his face when he realized he had to walk through that screaming, overly excited line of girls while every one was looking on as he made his way through the gym.
Suddenly, the sadness that I had felt in my soul as I watched my son enter a whole new chapter in his life was replaced with uncontrollable laughter—the kind of laughter that hurts, the kind of laughter that makes you cry.
I always imagined that I’d shed tears when my son started high school, I just never thought they would be tears of laughter because some dumbass thought it was a good idea to make nervous, unsure teenagers feel TOTALLY AWKWARD by having a bunch of girls clapping and cheering for them as they made their way into a gym full of people they didn’t know.
Hey, at least I can tell people that "yes, I cried when my son started high school."
My first baby be starting high school this year too! We can't sit together and hold hands and give the eye to the cheerleaders waving and shakin' their stuff in front of our innocent boys because of regional differences, but I'm be holding your hand in my heart, sunshine.