Let the Senior Year Begin

I lay in the bed last night feeling like the worst mother ever. I read

post after post on facebook about parents dreading the start of the school year because it would be the "last first day" or other similar comments about dread and tears. I read about parents (let's be honest mostly mama's--daddy's are a little less transparent) asking how they were going to get through this year without crying every day, and I hid my head under a pillow and thought, "What has happened to me? How is it thinking about William being a senior this year and Caroline next year is not turning me into a puddle? How can I not relate to this?" (And I also worried about how much admitting this was going to cost me in therapy for them.)

I love my children; I adore my children; and when SK left for her last first day of high school I sobbed with the same intensity I sobbed when Caroline started kindergarten. I have loved nothing more than being a mama, but with two gone and two to go, I have learned that while I would have had a dozen children toddling around, I also love being a mama of young adults. I didn't know it in 2013 when SK left for her last first day of high school, but I know it now.

I have loved watching the big kids find their way in the world. I have been amazed at the paths they have taken--paths I would not have predicted all those years ago when they first started school. (And some of the paths I would not have chosen--but they're not my paths.) I have loved listening to them figure out who they think they are, then changing their minds, then figuring it out again. I have loved watching them take risks (some have been easier to stomach than others).

Yes, I miss the wonder in their faces and their bright eyes as they explored the world. But I love hearing the unabandoned ebullience in their voices as they share what they've decided to explore, what they want to experience, what they find amazing--I love hearing them say, "I can't wait to tell you more when I see you." And I count the days until that will happen--and it will.

Yes, I miss being in the kitchen when they walk in the door after school and being able to pester them about what they did that day, who they talked to and what's happening this weekend. But I love the calls and texts I get--the calls and texts they choose to initiate, the sharing of their lives they choose to make.

Yes, I miss having SK stand in the kitchen (leg extended above her head) telling me about her classes, but I love the "I've only got a minute but I have to tell you what just happened in class" and the "you've got to read this book" calls I get as she rushes from one class to another, one activity to another.


Yes, I miss Boss kissing the top of my head as he comes in or goes out, but there is nothing that makes my heart burst more than hearing his voice say "love you Mama" before he hangs up the phone or the random "love you" texts he sends.

Yes, I miss being there to help them, advise them (read nag them and tell them what to do) but I have also loved watching them figure life out on their own. I have loved listening to them and to being asked for advice--some which they take some they don't.

Yes, I miss their presence, their voices wafting down the stairs as they talk to each other, their smell after a shower, even their smell coming in from ballet and sports. I ache with missing them. I'm not admitting anything, but it could be that the night before Boss left for Montana I sat on the floor at the foot of his bed watching him sleep, and the night SK got home from Dublin and South Africa I might have lay next to her in her bed with my hand lightly touching her so as not to wake her but just needing to be close to tangibly know she was safely home.  As much as I miss their physical presence, I also love hearing about their adventures, the things they're learning and celebrating the people they are becoming sometimes in states and countries I have yet to see. But I get to see them through their eyes, through their stories, through their lives.

To be truthful and transparent, it hasn't been easy. There have been tears, there has been loneliness, and there has been fear. But it's been an exciting time. I fell in love with each of the children the moment they were put in my arms, and as they leave home and become the people they are created to be, I get to fall in love with them all over again.

And so as we approach William's last first day of high school, there is a part of me that feels a dread, but the larger part of me is excited for him and what lies ahead. I can't wait to see where he winds up next year and then to hear and see how he grows into the person he is meant to be--the person God calls him to be. I can't wait to share in his triumphs, his joy and even his challenges. It's his last first day, but it's also a springboard--the beginning of a whole new world, the beginning of the rest of his life.  And I can't wait to fall in love again.

I want to make a disclaimer right now--I feel quite certain there will be tears shed this year; let's be honest I shed tears over just about everything and I will savor every moment of this year and Caroline's senior year next year, but mostly I just feel light and joyful anticipation.

Let the year begin!