My son had his first meeting at his new preschool that he will start in the fall. Well, it starts the Thursday before labor day which is August 30th. Which is only 42 days away. So it’s basically tomorrow he’s going to be going to the town grade school and I am one thousand percent not ready.
Like GRADE SCHOOL. What!?
I feel like you were just seven pounds two ounces yesterday?
I honestly never had such a hard time with accepting growing up till it was my own offspring that was partaking in it. My whole life I wanted to grow up faster than the universe planned and now I want the universe to just cut the crap and freeze for a minute.
I want time to stand still so bad that I lied to my toddler the other day. Yup. I flat out lied to his cute little face and I am not sorry about it. Ok maybe just a little bit, but deep down I had my reasons.
This wasn’t a lie like my usual “you’ll get arrested if you don’t have pants on in public” or “no honey, I would love to give you a bite, but you have to be atleast fourteen to eat this adult ice cream”. This was one that struck me to the core.
We were in Target looking for new shoes for him because the kid unluckily got his fathers feet which basically means I will be taking out a second mortage to keep up with buying him giant shoes. I found some nice Lightning McQueen ones that were velcrow and he says to me “Mommy, I want ones with laces. Can you teach me how to tie my shoes?”.
For those of you who don’t have kids, you are probably sitting at the edge of your seat waiting for the climax of the story. For you moms out there, you probably felt your heart crumble a little bit too. It hurt like a straight toddler elbow to the boob.
Like how could this little human want to keep being so independent? I just taught you how to use a fork. I just taught you how to wipe your own butt. I just taught you how to freaking roll over like two minutes ago. Just let me keep the shoe tieing please. PLEASE. Give me that one sense of being needed and wanted and to nurture you. Just let me tie your damn shoes a little bit longer.
I lied to him.
I told him that you have to be atleast four feet tall to tie your own shoes. He jokingly said “well I am almost as tall as you Mommy”. He talks a lot of smack for someone who can’t tie his own shoes, but I love him. Every ounce of him- even though he’s a lot more than seven pounds two ounces now. That’s why I lied.
Moving into new seasons is hard on the heart, embracing those seasons can be even harder.
That little bald head of his is now filled with bushy curls.
Those little coos and squeaks turned into fullblown, nonstop- and I mean nonstop- hours of actual conversation. The boy is a Chatty Kathy, Babbling Bertha, Talking Tracy now.
Those tiny onsies with the animals on the bum turned into little muscle shirts with monster trucks on them.
So hold the moments and the babies as long as possible because pretty soon they’re going to be too cool for Lightning McQueen velcrow shoes and old enough to eat your adult ice cream.