I’ve been a basket case for the past two weeks. Haven’t been too focused, not been writing much, certainly haven’t been accomplishing anything worth mentioning. And all because my baby boy is entering middle school.
Today, in fact.
If I’m this broken up for 6th grade, how the hell will I survive high school graduation?
I’m a wuss, is what I’m saying.
A whole summer of questions like, “Mom, what if I can’t find my locker?” “What if I forget my locker combination?” “What if I can’t find my room?” “What if I forget what the teachers tell me to do?” “What if someone bullies me again?” “What if I have to pee?” “What if I can’t handle the homework?” “What if no one likes me?” “What if I miss the bus?” has left me exhausted.
No one slept at my house last night. Well, I finally drifted off around 2am, missing My Captain’s feet horribly because he was at the fire station. (We always touch feet before we drift asleep…don’t judge.) My feet were cold and lonely. My kids were worried, fretting in their beds. Even the cat was puking on my cream carpet more than usual. At 3am, Varmint climbed into my bed with a “Mom, I can’t sleep.” I didn’t sleep anymore after that. So I got about 1 hour of sleep last night.
To say that Mama needs her beauty sleep is a horrific understatement. There will be no pictures of Mama in this post.
It all culminated at the bus stop at the bottom of our driveway this morning, at the ungodly hour of 6:30.
I was waiting for the tears. I was expecting the melt downs. I was prepared to hold trembling bodies.
But what I got instead, when the bus finally turned onto our country lane, was a little boy who straightened his back, squared his shoulders, turned to me and with his serious deep brown eyes said proudly, “Looks like your baby boy is growing up, Mom.”
I got no kiss goodbye. But as he stepped onto the bus, he turned and winked at me.
And in a moment, the bus was gone.
Along with my baby boy.
I turned and looked at My Captain, and said, “Well…..Shit.”
I’ve always been a wordsmith.