That’s me swallowing. Trying to push down the giant lump in my throat because I have one year left with this boy. One more year to love on him physically, teach and advise him while in his company, laugh at his goofy antics, tell him to clean up his pigsty of a room, tickle his feet to wake him up in the morning, make all his favorite foods, create lasting memories and hope that I’ve done my part as his momma to prepare him for life on his own.
And that’s why I say gulp.
Sometimes we’ll all be driving in the car together, kids probably fighting, and I try to imagine what it is going to be like in a year when there is one less person in the car. I can’t. It is too strange to even think of.
I know cutting the apron strings and letting children go out on their own is part of this job I signed up for as a parent. But knowing it and actually doing it are two different things.
We are already inundated with Senior stuff and the school year hasn’t even begun. Yearbook pictures, college applications, scholarship applications. I’m trying to stay ahead of it all so I don’t get swallowed. I’m trying to not fear the year and let it control me, but instead control it and have plenty of space in between activities and demands to create memorable moments with my first born child.
I love Chris so much. We really have settled into a place removed from hard core instructional parenting to watching him take applying the lessons we’ve taught him over the years. I see us as advisors – consultants of a sort. There is a beautiful give and take that is occurring. It is not without glitches and setbacks, but I can see him becoming the man he’s meant to be.
All this to say my mind is full of love and thoughts of stopping time and making time count and all sorts of other sentimental freak out stuff. Good times, for sure.