Mommy's Blog: Five

The boy is five years old. Five! How did this happen???

It was only yesterday, I swear, that we drove away from Hillcrest Hospital with our little bundle snuggled in his Peg Perego seat in the back of my old Honda Civic. Craning our necks to peek at his little scrunched up self, we wondered that they allowed us to leave with him, all on our own! Didn't they know we hadn't a clue?

And yet, here we are. Five years later and my little bundle is not so little at all....he is snuggled into a big bed upstairs, clutching his new dinosaur pillow pet under his rocket ship duvet cover. When he is asleep there is a tiny bit of softness to his face and I can almost smell his newborn hair again for a moment. Almost.

Five years out as parents and I think sometimes we know what we are doing. I can calm a crying baby like nobody's business. Potty training? Meh, that's nothing. I've read all the books on positive discipline and I have some moments where I nod with pride as just the right words come out of my mouth and magically dispel the chaos of misbehavior.

SOME moments. Like one or two in the past two years...

Yet, five years out, as I watch his deep breaths and the purity of his sleep I am transported right back to that moment in the car... Does he know I haven't a clue? That I wonder every day, every night, if I am doing right by him? That I hope against hope for his happiness and fear for the trials and frustrations he may face? That I am mostly terrified those frustrations will come from something I have done wrong and I just don't want to do this wrong because there is too much at stake. There is HIM at stake. I want to protect this little being, so fiercely, just as much as I did when he was small. He's not so utterly defenseless anymore. In fact, he can stand up for himself a little too well at times. But its there in me, that desire to scoop him up and keep the world at bay and rearrange the stars to fit him better.

Our poor first child, the guinea pig, who bears the brunt of our parenting inexperience. We can do that baby and toddler thing now. Training times two! But with each age come new questions and challenges; the decisions and responsibilities seem to grow along with the child, and I still feel unqualified to meet them. I may have two children but this is the first 5 year old I've raised...

We are going into this year full-force. A full day of celebration yesterday, and then off to Kindergarten tomorrow. Kindergarten tomorrow! Kindergarten!

I wish he was excited to go. I wish his eyes were shining with the thrill of new pencils and paper and the idea of learning.

But no, my boy's been up at night with anxiety and states in no uncertain terms that he does NOT want to go, that it will NOT be fun. He's worried about all the other kids, he says. And because he seems to be more than a little bit like me, I know he's worried about if he'll be able to do everything, and do it right. He can't talk about his perfectionism yet but its in there, sadly, a part of him right along with his dimple. I want to wish it away for him, and make the rest of his life that much easier. Sigh.

He's resigned himself to going though. We talked it through tonight. He knows what to expect. I'm concerned with what shirt he should wear; he's concerned with getting his school supplies all packed up into his pencil box. I'm going in to work late tomorrow to be home to see him off. To pack his lunch and brush his hair and drive him crazy with pictures and fussing over him. I won't be dropping him off-- our joint perfectionism is a deadly combination in new experiences, we've found, and he adjusts far better when daddy is the one to take him. I think I am OK with that. Though I wish I could follow him with my eyes, watch his day, see the moment when he realizes that school (like so many other things he didn't want to do, until he loved them) isn't so bad after all. I know by the time I see him tomorrow night, the extent of information I'll get about the day will be "I don't remember." I know my boy. But maybe, just maybe, he'll remember something, something wonderful and magical and school will be a gift for him.

I want him to love it.

I know he might not.

And this may be the hardest thing for me on this whole parenting journey: reconciling my dreams and expectations with the actual human beings given into my charge to raise. He will be exactly who he is, regardless of my wishing. And his life will unfold in its own direction, regardless of my reading and analysis and second-guessing.

And so far, that little life is pretty wonderful. This child of mine, he's wonderful. Unique. Infuriating. Hilarious. Challenging. Gorgeous. Wild. Deliberate. Opinionated. Sensitive. Bright. Wonderful.

Five years.

From this...