At summer's end
I know I haven't written in awhile, so I thought that instead of trying to play catch-up with you, my lovely six or seven readers, I would instead start right here, today, in our house. Where, just an hour ago, I realized that this was the last day I'd spend with both of my kids at home before they went off to school for the year. Nora, to kindergarten (KINDERGARTEN!!!!) and Gabe to a three-times-a-week preschool program for two-year-olds, which he is very excited about for the time being, and which he calls, "Gabey's school." He may become less excited when he realizes J and I won't be attending with him. Time will tell.
But back to the point, I was putting Gabe down for his afternoon nap, thinking about this, and got a little teary-eyed realizing the inevitable for all parents of young kids: that they are growing up, and will continue to do so. That they will start doing things like homework and sharing private jokes with friends that we don't get at all. What's more, they don't care if we get it.
That my little boy, who still proclaims loudly - and often - that he, "LOVES diapers," may indeed remain a baby for awhile longer, but certainly not forever. Because you know what else he loves? Women.
And that, despite craving a bit more freedom after spending most of this summer with my children, that freedom is - suddenly and oh so surprisingly - right around the corner.
The end of summer is, as I find so often, a bit of a strange and bittersweet time. This year is especially so as we are anticipating potential newness; J, ending his postdoc, has begun the permanent job search. Which means we are not sure what - or where - lies ahead.
The salve, of course, is that all the potential newness is exciting, too. I've always liked fall, both for its weather its sense of new beginnings, never able to escape the feel of the school calendar even when I was no longer attending. Technically the season is still a few weeks away, but symbolically, this is where it starts.
Now, of course, we're in it all the way with our two tiny and eager students, and I can't get enough of their enthusiasm. Or, in the younger one's case, a sense of good-natured obliviousness about it all; he's only two, after all. Still a baby, really. For now, anyway.
