Preschool Feelings

Yep, it happened.  Just like that.  I now have three kids in school.  Waving to Whitman as the bus drove away, I felt a lot of large scale emotions -- glorious relief, ugly-cry sadness, strutting proud, and honestly, pretty crazy anxious.

I am of course relieved to actually have some moments to myself during the day while Ani is napping.  It. Is. Glorious.  Haven't had free time during the day for almost 6 years.  Wow.  My brain actually has a few moments during the day where it is not interrupted and able to focus on one thing. This having-kids-in-school thing is pretty awesome. Fist pump!

And yet....

Man, did I cry my face off after I put my kid on the bus.  It's Whitman.  Whitman.  Although at times he drives me crazy with his constant no-clothes approach to fashion, and his emotions and moods which are generally all over the place (good thing I have those oils! sheesh! for him, I mean.  well, also for me...), he is oftentimes ironically my sanity.  He is my go-to kid.  Do you have one of those? The one you rely on to help the others get dressed or to give you a report of what's happening when the boys are all playing in the basement, or to just have an actual conversation with during the day. Did I mention he is only three?  And while he is my baby boy, he functions often as the oldest in our world.  It's a big role for such a little guy.  It just is.

I was proud of the little guy. Yes, Whitman, but, I'm referring here to Syrus.  There are not many times where my dear Syrus gets to be the leader, the one with more experience, the one providing the stability and setting the tone.  So, this was big.  And he knew it, too.  He gave so many hugs and so many smiles to Whitman.  He was the one who got to be the rock. He got to be the big brother. To a kid like Syrus, who is often behind, there are no words to describe it.  So awesome. (tears).

And now the anxiety sets in....it happens a lot, but ironically, about my kids who don't have Down syndrome.  Having Syrus as my first, I have always felt with him that one thing I have is time.  There is a quiet dignity, a glimpse of an unseen mystery, in the fact that he has a developmental delay.  It means that I have him longer in a way.  He doesn't grow up as quickly; he has an extended Peter Pan childhood, if you will. It doesn't feel like it is slipping through my fingers like so many grains of sand. But it feels that way with Whitman.  Oh, sweet Whitman, my little man.  I know I will blink and he will be all grown up, a man, off to a job and a life where the way he needs me will look very different. And with Syrus that day WILL come, perhaps a bit later and in a manner that will look very different. And that is good and beautiful and I do not grieve that anymore because I am reminded that with Syrus, I have the gift of time.  And yet, with Whitman, and, even with my sweet Ani, I am reminded that time is moving at light speed although often times, I don't recognize it.  And when I do, it is so hard. So hard, to look at Whitman and Ani, and feel that I need to hold them a little tighter now because they won't always want me to, and won't need me, at least not in the same way.

One of the profound things someone said to me about parenting that always makes me pause a bit, is that when you are a parent, the days are long but the years are short.  That when you are in the thick of parenting little ones, it is a physical and exhausting kind of parenting that makes some days seem like we will never make it to bedtime, but the years....the years fly by, people, oh yes, they do.  And today, as I put Whitman on the bus, it sure seemed like a little more time slipped through my grasp.

So, I'm learning (trying to learn) not to grasp too tightly, but to allow the ebb and flow of time and instead linger in these moments as they come, soak them up, wade into them knee deep, and gather ye rosebuds while ye may.  Cuz, right now, these little ones are in full bloom. :)