Milestones

It was a beautiful Tuesday afternoon when I discovered a little cash in my pocket. Since our second grader (Zach) seemed a bit down in the dumps when we arrived home, I thought I would bring our three youngest children out for lunch. We seldom go out to eat these days and I figured it would make his day a little bit brighter. After walking for what seemed like days because our three year old is completely awestruck by nature, Zach’s whole demeanor changed for the better. His sweet face lit up even more when he noticed a few of his buddies were already there as we arrived. We ordered our food and then my excited boy turned to me and asked if he could sit at the table with his friends. Without skipping a beat, I softly handed him his lunch and off he went. While I may have looked composed on the outside, on the inside I thought, Does this have to happen so soon? Zachary is our third child, so I have been through this before and while I fully recognize the whole autonomy thing, it remains a tricky subject for me. (In fact I am positive that I would make a terrible mother bird. The thought of letting my little hatchlings fledge for themselves after only a few weeks is appalling. My nest would be freakishly enormous not to mention insanely loud and probably overloaded with an abundance of extra feathers and random worm particles.)

I decided it best to sit with my back to him. I knew that my role in this circumstance wasn’t to hover, so I pretended that I wasn’t paying attention as he ate with his pals. (Boy did I wish I had one of those Whisper 2000 thingamajigs.) All was going relatively well until his friends had to leave, and instead of rejoining us at our table, he finished his meal by himself. I didn’t see that one coming I thought as I attempted to swallow the enormous lump in my throat. It was a bittersweet moment. He felt self-confident enough to eat by himself, yet I really wanted him to return to our table. As we finished, Zach appeared beside me “You ready?” my bright eyed eight year old asked while loudly slurping the last of his drink. “We sure are Zach, are you?” I replied, trying to act unflustered. He responded by tenderly saying thanks, and my broken heart was instantly repaired.

Believe it or not, I am making progress in this area. We recently took the crib down after 14 years. Our youngest (Allyson) moved into her big girl bed and it only took me about a month before I eventually felt ready to dismantle it. That crib was such a poignant staple in our home, so this pronouncement wasn’t an easy one. Luckily my husband Neil was very understanding. (Either that or he just didn’t want to deal with a weeping wife.) On that day I blurted, “I am ready for you to take it down, but I don’t want to be here when you do it.” Neil simply smiled as if to say, “Finally!” So I went for a walk (alone) and thought about all of the amazing things I was truly grateful for and when I finally returned, the crib was in the attic and the world was okay.

It might be a good idea to embark on the future instead of on the past, especially since our oldest is heading off to high school in the fall. (Would it be inappropriate to ride the train in with him on the first day of school? Don’t answer that.) I am ready…I think. I am ready to accept that my hatchlings will eventually leave the nest and until that time it’s my job to help them all to learn how to fly. (As long as I don’t have to teach them how to parallel park we will be okay…I think.)