Yesterday, post workout, I stopped by Target childless. It was magnificent and I might just keep hitting the gym if it means trips to Target by myself. While I was there I picked up a container for Quinn’s lunch. He will be starting Kindergarten on September 2. When I was a kid kindergarten was half day and maybe in some places it still is. Here, it is all day, which means lunch. I also saw two books about kindergarten on the end cap as I walked by and thought they would be a good way to get Quinn excited about school.
This morning when Quinn woke up he thanked me for the lunch container. I made sure he could open and close it all by himself. He can. He thanked me for buying him a green one–his favorite color–and I wanted to cry. He has such a sweet heart and amazing spirit. Then he asked me to read the books to him.
And I did.
And I cried.
I was really doing okay, until the girl in the book lost her tooth while at school.
Quinn has been talking about when he is going to lose his tooth and excited about this day for years. Yes, I know–he is odd, but I love everything odd about my sweet boy. Suddenly I realized that he could lose his first tooth at school. That this thing he has been talking about for years, before we were even thinking about school, could happen and I wouldn’t be there. I wouldn’t be there to see his expression or his reaction. I wouldn’t be there.
And then the tears and Quinn turns to me and says, “Mom, I have lots of teeth”.
Of course he does, but this isn’t about a tooth. This is about the million things he will do, experience, learn and succeed and fail at amongst, well—for lack of a better word–strangers.
I am trying hard to be brave, to trust the process. I want so badly for this to be right, for him to flourish and be happy and safe. I want to believe that we will find our new normal and it will be just as good or better than this. That Eleanor will find joy in being the oldest and that her and Hudson will grow closer. That Quinn coming home from school will make their time together more intentional and meaningful. That some day they will follow in their brother’s footsteps and be bonded by their shared journey. But it almost hurts to think about, because I really love all three of them together.
Today I found myself at Kohl’s, post-gym again, without kids. I know— “I work out”. Kohl’s was just filled with mom’s and dad’s. Primarily older. Probably back to school shopping. Girls shopping with their mom in the H.S. hoodies talking about their practice. It made me remember fondly how much my mom became my friend. How much I enjoyed shopping with her and talking to her, how much I enjoyed playing sports and being a part of a team and how much my parents loved to watch me. I found myself feeling excited for that.
And then, right there, in the middle of Kohls–I realized that we would have a million more new normals and with each one I would grieve a little for what had passed, but if we stay here, if we stay little– as beautiful and wonderful as it is– then I will never get to be the mom shopping with her kids hearing about H.S. sport’s practice.
I’m not saying it will be easy or that I wont cry–I’m just saying it will be okay. Heck, probably better then okay.
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