It was a rainy afternoon but I was in good spirits. My son, my first born, would be going to school in the fall. I felt like I had made it. I'm not sure why I felt this way but I felt triumphant. We were approaching another milestone but I was happy about this one. I felt good about it -
or so I thought.
Let me just say that I am not generally a sappy person and I am not known to cry easily. Back in the day, my personal motto was "never let 'em see you cry". This motto served me well during long periods when all of my girlfriends had boyfriends and I had to spend many Saturday nights alone and again when I worked at a stressful job in a male-dominated company.
But since having kids, I am now much more likely to cry than I used to be. My guess is that just like the black Enfamil diaper bag, the descriptions of how baby poop should look at different stages, and the blue bulb nose aspirator, the hospital also sends new moms home with some special teary-eyed hormone after delivering your first baby.
But that's just a guess.
The school had stations set up to make registration flow smoothly. The first station was check-in where they confirmed that I had all the required documentation. The next station was a notary public who watched as I signed a form stating that all the documents I brought were mine and that I was who I said I was. At the third station, I signed up for a time in May for my son's assessment to make sure he is 'kindergarten ready'.
And the fourth and final station was the spot where I told them that yes, my little man would be riding the bus. When I said those words out loud, there was a catch in my throat.
Oh crap! Am I going to cry, I thought shocked at this catch in my throat and the tears that I could feel coming. Do not cry The first day of school is 5 months away. Do not stand here and cry. Stop being such a dork.
I cleared my throat a few times and blinked my eyes and shoved all the sadness that I was suddenly feeling back down into the pit of my stomach where it came from.
I proceeded to the book fair that was set up in the library and calmed myself while I mulled over a Rachel Ray cookbook. After all, who can be sad staring at that perky face?
I made it home with no tears and no embarrassing show of emotion, but all I can say, is that you people do not want to be around here at the end of August. I am predicting a lot of tears and a lot of sappy blog posts.
It could get ugly.