The calendar changed and my boy thought he was headed back to school in January to start grade one. Ater his first day back of kindergarten, he was so disheartened. Why? He expected to be a “Big Kid”, play in the big kid playground. Right Now.
We had a long chat about the summer holidays, and how grade one doesn’t start until September. It’s a new SCHOOL year, not a new calendar year. So we counted out how many weeks until summer vacation.
Andrew thinks that is a very, very long time away.
As his mama, I think that’s a blink of an eye. A single head turn and he’ll be in grade one. Gone all day, every day. It caught me off guard how emotional I became thinking about how fast my son has grown up.
I need to capture this time, before I can’t get it back. He’s counting 25 weeks until lift off, I’m counting 25 weeks hoping to stop time.
Andrew, out of all three of my kids, has been the most unique child to parent. Not the firstborn, whose memories are locked solid in my brain and whom I compare all other parenting moments too. Not my last, whom I try my best to drink up and savour because I know every one of her firsts, is our last.
He’s my sturdy middle child. If I’m really honest with myself, much of the details of his young life are a blur. Caught in the middle of two sisters who are four years apart front to back with an exhausted mom and a hectic life…
Enter in the guilt of being here but not being as present as I'd like. How can my memories be blurry??? More guilt.
Andrew’s life and the life of my business are parallel. Both business idea and embryo conceived the very same month, February 2007. The business was born in August 2007, 3 months prior to Andrew’s arrival and he has never known a life without momstown. His mom was never a full stay-at-home mom or even had a maternity leave. His mom has always worked which meant our one-on-one time has never/rarely happened. (Unless you count bedtime stories, chitchat and snuggles, which I do but...)
25 Weeks until our boy starts his last summer before full time school. 25 weeks to make a difference before a dozen years of school leave him available only after school and on weekends.
I have to make a change. I NEED to be part of these last 25 weeks. So I made a promise to my dear boy. Every Wednesday, I’m yours.
I work for myself, isn’t a flexible schedule supposed to be one of the positives to self-employment? The irony is not lost on me that my whole life is about moms and kids while I'm losing time with my own. I’m finally going to call in one of my trump cards and just do it – Wednesdays are mine again.
Well, they are Andrew’s.
We have 25 Wednesdays ahead of us. 25 Wednesdays for adventure, for exploring, for cuddles, for anything we want. I’m more excited than I’ve been about anything in a long time. Thank-you Andrew for the heads up on what the right thing to do is. xo