Growin’ Up

Last night was supposed to be a movie night. We were supposed to put on our sweatpants, make popcorn and drown ourselves in blankets and pillows. It was how our Friday night was supposed to go, according to Friday morning’s short-and-sweet weekend agenda conversation with my husband. Movie night. Done deal.

Fast forward to the after school bus stop. My friend and fellow mom tells me about a Family Fun Night at my kid’s school. They have me convinced – with free food, face painting and a DJ – to disband the movie night idea and attempt to socialize. The whole family seemed on board. So, off we went.

My son, a Kindergartener who has grown 10 years in 3 months, was hoping beyond hope that a few of his good buddies would be there. This is a boy who I feel I rarely see anymore (with this five-days-a-week school malarky), so I secretly hoped for a family night dining on cafeteria pizza and speaking amongst one another about our week, our homework, our highlights and lowlights.  We walked in the school door and I may as well have made myself disappear into thin air. Martin was there. Yonetin was there. Ali was there. Bayla was there. Griffin was there. I was no longer there. And guess what? My heart didn’t sink. Truth be told, it soared. I instantly felt emotional. Reassured. Relieved. Watching him run around the gym at 90mph, screaming and dancing with other kids, suggesting ideas and making up games…it filled me with pride. Laughing at the gym teacher dancing with the students, cheering for the hula hoop contestants, and listening to the entire school belt out a terribly off-key version of “Let It Go” from the stage – I knew he was at the right place. We had made the right choice. So far, so good.

As the DJ wrapped up the party, audible whining came from every child in the place. Every one of them exhausted, convinced they could keep going if only their stinky parents allowed it. As we were leaving, I started to think about how quickly these first five years have gone and how I could see how quickly they grow, change, and become their own real, independent, unique individuals. I know…I know…dramatic, right? Jeez. I have 14 years until he goes off to college. That’s tons of time.

But, is it? Last night I felt like that answer was easily NO. Watching my baby in his new environment, as someone’s student, someone’s best friend, someone’s dance partner…so crazy! When did he get so big?

The second we got outside of the school, and there was nothing around us but a slippery sidewalk and the light of the moon, my son grabbed my hand. And that is how we walked to the car – his hand in mine. We talked about his friends, his favorite song, and his dance moves. I almost wished we had parked farther away because I just know those moments are fleeting and my heart isn’t ready. I must remind myself that the person he’s becoming is getting better every day. Smarter, taller, more empathetic, kinder. We are doing something right and, just because he has friends and teachers who love him, does not mean he won’t need a hand to hold when he’s sad…or just plain ol’ tired after an exhausting week of learning.

My hand will always be right where you can reach it, buddy. I promise. Always.

Has anyone else felt this way in a particular situation? What triggered it? How crazy did it make you feel?