My day starts out with his face an inch from mine whispering, "iz time a eat". And then my personal space is violated for the next 12 hours. So I let myself begin to fantasize about what it would be like to have 3 hrs every morning all to myself. Sure, Pak n' Save just won't be the same without him helping me count/bruise the apples as he puts them in the bag, or parking the shopping cart next to the rotisserie chicken oven to warm his toes, or sharing a package of mentos at the checkout. But, I could go running without stopping every few feet to open his snack or look at a dog or watch a big truck drive by. Or I could volunteer at the kid's school and maybe even chaperone a field trip. Or I could meet Jason for a mid week lunch date. Or, if we're being honest, I could go back to bed for a few hours. The possibilities are endless. So I was giving myself this little pep talk and convincing myself that I would be okay when my baby turned three and started kindy in June. But then they threw me a curve ball when I went to register him and they wanted me to start transitioning him the next week. All of the sudden running errands by myself seemed more lonely than glamorous. But I'm more than a little concerned that his mama's boy tendencies are bordering on an unhealthy separation anxiety. I don't know, maybe it's the earth shattering scream when I even suggest that he lets dad take him potty that gives it away. A chance for him to build his confidence and gain some independence in a safe and fun environment might be just what he needs. So we bought a fireman backpack, pulled up our britches and took the leap from toddler to boyhood. I purposely sat back and let him explore and feel comfortable in his surroundings as he built relationships with the teachers and kids. Which translates to me sitting on the couch for three hours straight. But the good news is, he ventured outside his usual 5 ft radius and became so engrossed in the cars and trains that I thought we might finally be able to cut the umbilical cord and he wouldn't freak out if I left for a little bit the next day. He freaked out. Not just freaked out, but pardon my lame '80's phrase, he totally wigged out. It was so discouraging and I'm fairly convinced that at the rate we're going I may end up being his prom date. But later that day I came across this quote as I was scrolling through pinterest, because some times I ignore my kids so I can pin ideas on how to be the perfect mom. It's all for the greater good.
"You will never be this loved again. So on those days when you are feeling stressed out, touched out, and depleted, just remember that you will never be this loved again. One day you will long for their affection. So choose a soft voice, choose gentle hands, choose love"-AK
So for 3 hours every Wednesday and Friday I will sit there memorizing the pattern on the tiles and the fabric on the throw pillows at his school because he needs me there. I'll let him climb on my lap and poke his finger in my sandwhich while I try to eat. I'll thank him for the books he slides under the door while I'm trying to use the bathroom. I'll patiently delete the qxghptp's that he adds to my typing. I'll try not to step on the train tracks he has set up under my feet while I cook, and I'll let him drive cars all over me at church. Even if it does mess up my hair. Because right now I am the center of his universe. And that won't last forever.
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