I Blinked

It's true, I didn't cry on Owen's first day of Kindergarten.  What I did do was exhale - overcome by an enormous sense of relief as he was walked into a classroom that I knew was going to be a good fit for his then stormy and determined approach to life. Exhaled because the road to Kindergarten admission was a long one and included a notification that he was  "not a good fit for our program" from the school we planned for him to attend [so sure were we that our children would attend that school that our names are engraved on the big donor plaque that hangs outside their gymnasium].  Lo these many years later I am grateful [with a hint of grudge] that what we thought was our first school choice didn't work out, because while no school is perfect, I do believe that St. Bernard has been the perfect school for Owen.  I'll resist the urge to brag [in detail] about him, but he's done well at SBA in all the ways that I prayed that this child would do well in school. And I prayed for that. A lot.

And now, apparently, I've blinked and I find myself here - sending him off on his last first day at SBA.  The last first day. If this morning is any indication, this is the year that I'm going to say over and over and over again,"Good grief, how did we get here so fast?" Eighth grade. Eighth grade!! It's the top of the heap and the end of the line all at once. And I know [I.know.] that I will spend this school year weepy  [#cryinallthetime], emotionally fermenting in that heady blend of parental pride and nostalgia that watching your older child reach milestones seems to stir up. I wish I could think of a better way to say "it seems like only yesterday", but I can't. Seriously though, it does seem like only yesterday that we were walking a reluctant Owen into his first day of Kindergarten.  Where oh where does all the time go?

Joel and I sat with Owen on Sunday night, trying to impart some parental wisdom about his upcoming 8th grade year (because that's what we're supposed to do) and I hope he heard some of what his dad was trying to tell him - that he should jump in with both feet and enjoy this year.  Friends, classes, experiences both new and familiar - all of it. Because what I know in my momma heart is that even though he's thirteen and technically already a young adult, this is truly his last year of childhood. Big changes are on his horizon and I know that when the time comes, he'll be ready for them.  I also know that I'll be hovering somewhere, smiling and crying and smiling some more because that's what this momma does. Eighth Grade. Good grief, how did we get here so fast.