The Remaining Hours

It’s finally quiet here. The bath has been given, the teeth brushed, and the pj’s on. The lunch has been made. The new clothes, that were so carefully chosen, have been laid out for tomorrow. All the paperwork is filled out and put in his “take home” folder. And the folder and rest towel are in his backpack.

Everything is ready for his big day.

So, why am I feeling so sad? As much as I’m ready for a small break, with only one child at home, I’m terribly sad to see my middle child go.

It doesn’t seem like that many days ago, yet alone years ago, that I was struggling to get him potty trained. He was not going to do it, for anything. He’d scream, “Put my diaper on!” And mind you, he wasn’t 18 months old, like his sister. He was 3 years and 1 month old! It was time!

I was beginning to see just how strong willed he is. And part of me wishes I could say it’s gotten better, but it hasn’t. He’s still a study in contradiction. One minute he is hugging me and giving me such sweet loving. And the next, he is terrorizing his brother, D dog or both.

Yet, he’s such a wonderful helper and so eager to help his Mommy. He beams with pride when carrying in heavy loads of groceries, a 12 pack of Diet Coke with Lime on his shoulder and 2 sacks of groceries in his other hand. And he becomes furious with me if I even suggest that he lighten his load. He so desires to be strong like his Daddy.

He loves to sit in my lap and listen to me read or to just watch a little tv. He’s a Momma’s boy, but only in the sweetest way.

Up until yesterday, we’d read his chosen Bible story before nap and again at bedtime. And I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read Samson or David and Goliath, just two of his favorites.

However, many times I have wished that he would let Daddy do the honors, but he’d always want his Momma. It was our time. I’d read, he’d ask his 100 questions, and then I’d tuck him in and say his night-night prayers. Lastly, we’d hug and kiss, which usually involved a, “One more hug and kiss, Momma.”

And that’s been our routine at nap and bedtime, almost every day, for years. Now, we’ll only have it at bedtime.

But I’ll take that. I really like the idea of baby steps right now.

I know logically that he’ll be just fine tomorrow. But his nervous nature causes me a little concern. He’s my most nervous child. He’s way too concerned about everything. And I’m not sure if he’s more worried, about this whole school thing, than his sister or if he just vocalizes his concerns more.

He has asked so many questions over the last couple of days. The last questions before bedtime involved just when he would need to raise his hand. He’s used to yelling, “Momma, Momma!” Usually repeatedly at a rapid rate, until I respond. I believe this might be a legitimate concern.

He’s, also, quite concerned about this “rest” time thing. He does not understand how he can lie on a towel, on the floor, in a classroom with a bunch of other kids, without a pillow or something to cover up with, because, “Mommy, I’ll be cold.”, and take a nap. I wonder how Mrs. Combs will feel if we come to class tomorrow with his pillow and blankie? Will he have room in his cubby?

In the morning, I’ll proudly walk him to his room and point out the bathroom on the way, because another great concern of his is, “Why are the bathrooms in the hall?” He’s used to his Church rooms having bathrooms in every room. This baffles him.

And when the time comes for me to leave, I’ll hug and kiss him one more time, smile real big, turn at the door to wave bye (both to him and his childish innocence), and walk to my car with tears rolling down my cheeks, fully aware that I only have a few short years before I must repeat this, for the final time.

But right now, I’m going to go kiss his angelic, sleeping face and breathe in his sweetness. Because for a few more minutes, he’s home with me!