I'm Gonna Miss You

This morning as I watched my son run ahead of me to his first grade classroom, "I'm gonna miss you," popped into my head and tears filled my eyes.  He was smiling and bounding down to hang up his backpack so he could run and get a ball for us to play with.  He likes to get to school early so he and I can kick a bouncy ball back and forth to each other on the field before the bell rings. I never know where that ball is going to go when he kicks it, and I'm not much more accurate.

I feel bad that I'm not very enthusiastic about this morning ritual, and I won't say I'm disappointed when the bell rings and he has to put the ball away and go to class.  But he is.  He would kick that ball back and forth with me all day if he could, and I'm not even kidding.  So I do enjoy it, if a little begrudgingly.

After he has reluctantly put the ball on the rack he gives me big hugs and kisses and I tell him I love him and will see him after school, and he trots off to his classroom door.  Then he turns and waves, and I wave and blow him kisses, and he blows me kisses right back and waves some more and smiles at me with such exuberance.  Then he runs back to me for one more hug even though the late bell just rang, and I burst with joy.

When he finally goes inside, I turn and head back to the car.  The P.E. teacher, who is setting up for her first group says, "That's OK, take it while you can get it," instead of passing judgement on me for not getting him into class right away.

And that's the thing.  He is just going to keep on growing up.  I try to think about all the wonderful things to come, but the fact is, I'm going to miss him the way he is now.

I approach the wing of fifth grade classrooms hoping for a glimpse of my daughter, who pulled away as I tried to kiss her goodbye this morning.  She will be finished with elementary school two weeks from today.  I already miss her.  She is a smart and beautiful girl, and I love her, but I do sometimes (OK, often) wish for the days when she was little and I got a lot less sleep, but also a lot less drama.

Someone told me or I read somewhere (I can't remember stuff anymore--I blame mommy brain), that these are the best days of my life, these days while my kids are young.  And as the years fly by, I think I agree.  Not that I am pessimistic about the future, but I feel my children separating from me, and it hurts.  And entering the middle school years is just plain scary.

So, my work now is to keep up the connection I have with my kids, even when they don't act very affectionate--or are behaving downright rude.  My job is to keep on loving them and to meet them where they are now, even if I miss them the way they were.