Dropping Him Off at School...

"I'm excited, Mommy!" Words that I love to hear as we battle the traffic to the other end of town, counting the dump trucks as we go, making our way to Sam's new school. Also slightly bittersweet, his desire to be somewhere where I am not, these small steps of independence marching him towards a more grown up life. My little boy who, as cliche as it sounds, was only a baby yesterday. This smart, small person who has great ideas, remembers all sorts of things and shows kindness and empathy to others. I pick him up from school and try to dig the answers to my prying questions out of him-what did you do today, did you eat your lunch, how long was your nap, did you play with any other kids...I want to back off, give him space, let his experiences spill out of him as he relaxes back into being with his mom and sister. But I also want to know that he was happy, felt safe, had fun, laughed, was nourished and loved for who he is...big wants, full hopes. Honestly, there is a part of me that is also excited to drop Sam off at school. To have time to just be with Phoebe or to be by myself, to flex the weak muscles of the other aspects of my being and pretend, fleetingly, that it is just myself whom I am responsible for. With that, I end up missing Sam desperately, entering the familiar dance that is such a big part of parenthood: wanting to be close to my children and wanting to run away from them.

It feels good to return here to this blog, to get something down about this journey, to continue to try to make sense of parenting while surrendering to the realization that it will never be completely figure-outable.