So tonight, or should I say morning considering it's 12am? I am THAT mom. You know, the mom who's a blubbering mess, suddenly not-so-excited for the first day of preschool? I wasn't going to be THAT mom.
I have been counting down the days to preschool for the past 2 years. I've been dreaming of all the things I'd get to do by myself for 3 whole hours! Things like eating a bowl of cereal with no interruptions from a three year old calling for more milk or requesting I open the yogurt lid. I've been imagining what it'd be like to take a shower without someone calling for me to wipe their tush while I'm mid shampoo. I'd get to drive in peace and quiet to pick him up, and listen to what I want on the radio and not the " Try Try" song (Shiny from Moana) eight times in a row.
I've pictured this perfect setting where my firecracker of a child will get some discipline from someone other than me. Or maybe I just like the fact the discipline won't be my problem for three hours. I want my son to love school and come home proudly reciting his ABC's. I want him to come home singing silly, new songs that'll get stuck in my head. I've thought about how perfect it'd be for him to fall asleep on the way home because school was such an awesome energy outlet. I've imagined what kind of friends he'd make or if the kids would even be nice. It may have even crossed my mind that preschool is my toddler's way to make up for those three hour naps he dropped 6 months ago. I have dreamt about what kind of human my son would grow into as he embarks on this journey of school and friends and the beginning of life.
But tonight, seven hours before he attends his first day of preschool, all those thoughts and questions lack any significance. All I can think about is the fact that ready or not my baby is growing up.The toddler years have been trying, but in this moment I want to freeze time. Keep him three forever. Soak in the unlimited kisses and the "Mommy, I love you bests" and the full on belly laughs. I want to savor the way he looks at me like I've never failed him, even though I'm certain at times I already have. When I ask him who his best friend is, my heart melts when he says, "mommy." I want to be the person my child sees me as.
While raising kids is hard and can, at times, take so much out of you, it is a job unlike any other. No job on the planet is as rewarding as parenting. Being a mom has taught me selflessness. It's taught me unconditional love. I'm still working on it teaching me patience, but considering my son is still alive I'd say I'm on the right track. Parenting has taught me to let go of the little things. That it's ok for the house to be messy. Sometimes. It's shown me that singing "The Farmer in the Dell" (is that even what the song is called?!) forty times is so much more important than scrolling through my newsfeed. Having a child has reminded me what it was like to be one. To live without a care in the world. To have an imagination that took you anywhere you wanted to go. To have such a blissful, positive outlook on life. My son has reminded how significant my role is. For me and for him. It is my responsibility to raise him up right. To teach him manners and respect. To help him learn how to deal with whatever life throws his way.
I grew up with a pretty good example of that myself. It's hard to think that tomorrow is a milestone I would be sharing with my son AND my mom. She'd be comforting me right now and telling me she felt the same way dropping me off on my first day. I'm almost certain she would have been waking up early to come with us for the big drop-off tomorrow. My mom told us, my siblings and I, our entire lives that she loved us more than anything in the world. I never got it until I had my own baby. I didn't know it was possible to love someone so hard. With every literal ounce of your being. But it is. And tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my son's life that I have to share him. I'll have to share him with teachers and friends. With sports and coaches. With future girlfriends, Heaven help me. But there is one thing I'm certain. No one will ever love my baby boy more than me. Nothing compares to a mother's love for her child except for maybe God's love for us. For now, I'm going to hug my boy a little tighter, sing with him a little longer, and laugh with him a lot louder. Because it will help me manage my three whole hours of letting go. I'm sure this is the first of many times that I'll be THAT mom. Sorry buddy!
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