It seems like yesterday that we were in that godforsaken class, Gymboree. I sang the horrible Gymbo song with Davis when he was a toddler. I really was never that kind of mom. I wanted to be. Seriously, I did. But I wasn’t. I cringed every time they put that stupid parachute out and the little kids started singing. On the other hand, Kindermusik with Max was worse. Much, much worse.

Have you ever been in a Kindermusik class? OMG. Having a toenail removed is more fun. (And I had to do that after a hiking accident in Deep Creek, so I know what I’m talking about here.

Anyway, I always hated those organized “parental training” classes where you were made to feel like a less than adequate parent – since these boppy teachers knew the drill and were here to teach you how to relate to the kids and what they needed. But I digress.

I just got back from my friend’s daughter’s high school graduation party. What a great kid. She babysat for us regularly. Honor student. Musician. Genuinely great kid. And now? Now she’s destined for adulthood.

So we celebrated.

And though, admittedly, I had a couple glasses of wine and that might have colored my view, I feel melancholy.

My guys are just about 12, 10 and 8-1/2. I met this graduation girl when she was 10. And now, she’s off to college. (A very good college, I should say! She’s brilliant on top of being a wonderful person.)

I am sitting here, in the dark. looking at the screen. And I’m thinking about my boys leaving for college. Neurotic? Perhaps. Creeping up? Yes, it is.

Every day, they seem more grown up. Not only are they getting tall (almost as tall as me!) but they are all becoming more and more and more self-sufficient. I know they need me. At least when they have nightmares (thanks, Pirates of the Caribbean) or when they vomit (sorry, but it’s true) or when the book report is due tomorrow. But the day to day, need me every second, can’t live without me stuff? That is quickly coming to an end.

And it’s kind of hard.

Although I thought I’d relish this freedom, secretly (well, not secretly anymore, I suppose) I am saddened by it.

Do you know that this summer, Andrew & I will be alone for 5 days? No kids, no responsibility? It’s crazy! Unheard of! Absurd! How can this be?

In my young adulthood, I thought that what I strived for was professional success. And I do. I work hard to be proud of my work. But I never dreamed that I’d so take to the job of mom. It feels all encompassing. So important. So everything to me.

So the thought of them going away. Graduating. Leaving. That is hard to think about.

So you know what? I’m going to suppress it for a while longer. We’ll all go to dinner at Jaleo to celebrate Andrew’s birthday (49?) and we’ll be a family.

And I’ll cherish being a family and spending time together as a unit as long as I can.

But in the back of my mind, I know they’ll leave one day. I know I’ll be proud. (Like I know you are Lori) but I hope it’s a long time away.


4 thoughts on “Gymbo.

  1. i feel *exactly* the same way and my kids are still little. i never wanted to be a mom and now it’s the only job i’ve ever been any good at and the only job i’ve loved for more than a few months. i can’t wait for them to be more self-sufficient but i’m also sad to think they won’t need me anymore.

  2. So, you’re steeling yourself for empty nesting (and birds in the nest anyway!), as I spend the evening reminiscing with a best friend. She’ll be 60 on Tuesday. When we threw her surprise 50th surprise birthday, my son was 11, her granddaughter 1. The granddaughter now the same age as my son was then, and my son now, know.

    It never ends. And it’s just so lovely.

  3. I’m very touched by your post…especially since it follows your terrific photograph of the boys.

    Not having children, I can only try to identify. I guess the best you can do is try to remember the mixed feelings that you had when you left home…and saw that melancholy look in your parents’ eyes while being so excited yourself by the new start in your own life.

    You’re giving the boys a fabulous start. They’ll always cherish that — and you two!


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