The end of this summer in particular is a mix of emotions. My oldest baby is headed to first grade. Yes, he's already been in school a whole year, but kindergarden is more like a hiccough in the day than real school. He was only gone two and a half hours each day, and so everything we did before could really be rearranged to still fit into the schedule. More importantly, his life still seemed to be completely intertwined with and dependent upon the family. And by family, I mean me. I'm not generally a total control freak, but for six and a half years I have spent a whole lot of time making sure this child is not just fed and clothed and bathed, but had friends from kind families to play with, interesting outings and activities to stimulate his intellect, quality books read to him, loving words spoken to him, and a calm environment in which to grow.
And now he will be gone. I know, I know, it's only 7 hours a day. Still, a family's entire existence can easily become all about school and less about the things one wants their family to be. Getting ready for school, carpool, homework, making lunch, homework, concerts, open houses, curriculum night, more homework, PTA meetings, picture day, fundraisers, it goes on and on. Who he becomes friends with, the information he is exposed to, the latest slang he gets to hear and repeat will all be out of my control.
I realize I have a long way to go before this parenting this is over, and in fact it never really is over. But I also think that there are some things I only had six and a half years to teach him before I sent him out into a big, sometimes scary, sometimes thrilling, sometimes fascinating, sometimes dangerous, not often enough compassionate and kind, not gentle enough world. I just hope I have taught him at the tender age of six-and-a-half to be smart enough, strong enough, savvy enough, gentle enough and tough enough for such a world for those seven hours a day.
