The Art of The Longest Shortest Time

Ahhhh, the end of summer.  It brings an abundance of zucchini, cooler evenings, and change.   Kids, strapped in huge backpacks, are going off to Kindergarten.  Recent grads are moving into dorms.  Teens are comparing their schedules with their friends' schedules.  Moms are snapping "First Day of School" pics to share on Facebook.  

Get in that school and start practicing!  Do you have any idea how much it costs to rent a wooden clarinet?  Do you want to make me sad?

I have known for years that Gus, my middle child, would someday attend middle school.  Well.  Some day has arrived.  

Monday I drove Gus to his middle school Band Booster class. I pulled up to door number 7, which was propped open with a binder.  Not super safe, but I get it.  I explained to Gus how he would walk down the hallway and turn right at the second hallway.  We argued for a bit about how a hallway can merge with another hallway.  Then, like some kind of monster, I let him leave.  I watched him walk to the door and disappear into the building.  I sat in the van and cried.  He had officially entered the developmental stage of caring more about his peers than his mom.  Wah.   

Here is some context for my breakdown.  When Gus was a baby I carried him everywhere.  People told me I was creating a spoiled brat.  I didn't care one bit.  I knew, from my first kid, you only get to carry them around for a short amount of time.  When your kids are between the ages of zero to five years old, you will be experiencing the longest shortest time of your life.  I know this because I have experienced it three times.      

My reality is that the longest shortest time has ended and now time is flying.  My oldest currently solves all my computer and phone issues.  (Though it would be more helpful if he would figure out why the downstairs toilet won't stop running.)  I can ask Gus to grill burgers for dinner and he just does it.  My youngest writes comprehensive packing lists for trips.  They want money, not Lego sets, for their birthdays.  They don't trick or treat anymore, rather they stay home and eat the candy they should be passing out.  No more ducky pajamas, songs before bedtime, or Mo Willems books.  I often go to bed before they do.

Many days I want things to go back to how they used to be.  I want "the band" to get back together.  Days at the zoo.  Excitement about parades.  Afternoon naps.  Sesame Street.  It was fun and safe and predictable.  I can no longer generate parade excitement or control who their friends are.   I am sad my relationship with my kids is changing because tweens and teenagers are scary.  I have never had a kid in high school, a kid in middle school, and a kid in elementary school. Sigh.  But, seasons end so new seasons can begin. 

I have decided to grieve for a bit before embracing the new season.  Tonight's plans involve a plate of nachos and leafing through some photo albums.  Tomorrow I will embrace the new season.

Prairie Eydie