It was as sweet as it was hard

tomorrow Maya starts the 7^th grade.  the next day is Eva’s first day of sophomore year.  and, on Monday, my first born love will take her first college class.

they don’t hold my hand walking in the big, scary doors of the schools anymore (or anywhere else).  they don’t come running out at the end of their first days eagerly leaping into my arms, thankful that i showed up and didn’t forget them while we were apart.  i’m not even there when they throw their backpacks on the floor and rummage for snacks to spoil their dinners. 

we used to be a team, these three little people and me.  every morning we sat in the kitchen together slamming breakfast and excitedly deciding what the day would hold for each of us.  ok, that’s not true. three of us were excited.  one of us knew exactly what each day would hold because it was always the same.  after i dropped each of them at school and brought the baby home, i cleaned and parented and cooked and baked and fidgeted until it was time to retrieve the rest of my heart at the end of the day – and on Thursdays we ran to target.  every day.  exactly the same.  except Mondays when i did laundry.  and Tuesdays when i deep cleaned while maya napped.  but, definitely every day was the same.

and HOLY SHIT was it boring.  and hard.  and monotonous.  and exhausting.  and regimented.  but mostly, boring.

now, other than picking out first day of school outfits and going into debt buying notebooks and flash drives, there is no build up to the first day of school.  today is summer break and tomorrow we start the 9 month parade of “i don’t want to go, i hate school.”  “i took that yesterday for lunch”  “i forgot to tell you that i need *insert expensive/labor intense/baked items* in exactly 8 hours” “so-and-so doesn’t like me anymore” “don’t forget that thing you definitely forgot i didn’t tell you last week”.  and then i’ll blink and it’ll be summer again.  over and over again for eternity.

only not.  it’s not forever.  it’s for 6 more years.  that’s it.  in six years, maya will be a senior in high school.  and this exhausting, monotonous, boring, expensive parade will come to an abrupt end.  AND THEY DON’T EVEN THROW CANDY OR BEADS AT THIS PARADE.   

i don’t miss them throwing 3 year old tantrums or crying in the grocery store.  i don’t miss peeling boogers off of walls or wrangling pigtails into the baby-fine hair of a child who just CANNOT hold tf still so we can get out the door to go to the thing none of us really wants to go to anyway but if i HAVE to, than so do they.  i absolutely do not miss the hysteria of a mob of tiny girls all screaming at the same time that each was DEFINITELY not the one who stole that cookie and the crumbs at the side of their mouth DEFINITELY do not tell the tale of a lie. 

but they used to cling to me like a lifeline.  every day at 3:05, a set of big brown eyes met mine across a see of little people and reset the day.  a fluffy cheek used to press against my neck when so-and-so (that little bitch) wouldn’t play at the playground with my girl and we would discuss all the ways that we could enjoy a slide without a care in the world.  and every day EVERY SINGLE DAY began and ended the same.  my team and me.  ready to take on the world… maybe tomorrow.  unless it was Sunday, because we didn’t have laundry done yet.

i don’t miss the things that were hard, but i’m so very thankful to have had the parts that were sweet.