And Now You Are 9

How is that possible? 

One more year until double digits? 

How am I old enough to be a mom to a 9 year old boy. 

How did I get so lucky to be blessed with such an amazing, funny, sweet, sensitive, creative, confident little boy?

I don't know how it has happened, how you are already nine years, but I know I wouldn't trade a minute of it.  

I hope you never lose the part of you that makes you unique among your peers.  You are truly one of a kind and I am so proud to be your mom.  

For The Last Time

For the last time I walked into this room and sat at this table.

Four years ago I walked in with my 7 month old baby, and Brandon at my side. This was an exciting moment, our first parent-teacher conference. Even though it was only preschool it was such a big step. I was no longer the teacher welcoming in nervous, or excited parents, but I was that parent. The one the teacher smiles at, asks to sit, and then begins to tell them about their child.

This conference did not go as I expected and my smile, turned to a scowl, and then to tears. Unfortunately, this was not the only time I cried at a conference. Last week I went to a conference for my middle son and when I walked into the room I saw that all was ready for me. At the empty table where we would sit was a full box of kleenex. Oh, yes, my tears are expected and prepared for.

Four years later I am once again at that little preschool table. This time it is for that little 7 month old baby that came with me the first time. This time I came alone. Not even Brandon came with for moral support.  This time I was there to hear about my youngest, my baby, my last one, the one about to turn 5.

It was a new teacher but the conversation was the same. For the third time it was recommended that my beautiful, amazing, smart, funny, active boy wait one more year for Kindergarten.  This time I did not react with anger or sadness. I smiled and thanked the teacher for her honesty and for truly knowing my son. We were on the fence with what to do for school next year and her knowledge of my son helped to solidify the decision.

Three times I have sat at this table (okay actually four, we did it twice for Jack). Three times I have been told my son was not ready for kindergarten and should wait.  Twice it was for social and emotional development, once it was for academic.

Each time the decision on what to do was all consuming, and sometimes overwhelming.  Thinking of pros and cons, what this decision would do for my son's future, what was truly best for that particular son, consumed me.

One son we kept at this same preschool for two years.

One son we decided at the last minute to send to kindergarten.

One son we will wait but move to a pre-K closer to home.

For the last time I sat at this table. This time I did not cry, I laughed, I listened, I talked.  But I did not cry.

I cried later realizing the end of an era for my boys and me.

That Was Awkward

Today I was late bringing Finn and his friend to preschool. That, unfortunately, seems to be pretty standard around here right now. Me, running late, I mean. But today it created a slightly awkward social encounter.

After getting both boys out of the car and heading to the door I turned around and found a parent standing behind me. Yesterday his twin boys made Finn a flag of Japan. Which was nice, so I felt I should say thank you. After I did he still stood there, so I assumed I should make conversation. But I really didn't have anything to say and there is a bit of a language issue so I said the first thing that came to mind.

"We would love to have your twin sons over for a play-date."  (Even though Finn has said it was ok, as long as only one came).

He was kind of surprised but said, sure. I thought I would show my ESL skills and asked if it would be easier if I emailed him some suggested day and times.

That seemed to be a good idea. Then this dad asked if I wanted to write down his email. Well, I didn't have a pen, paper, or my phone. I had only grabbed my keys when I got out of the car.  Hmm. Well, he could write down his email for me.

That seemed like a good idea.  But, when he went to get a piece of paper, he had to go around me to open the door.  And that is when I realized he wasn't actually waiting to talk to me. Rather I was standing in front of his car door. Effectively blocking him from driving away.

So, I didn't have to actually set up a playdate with two 4 year old twin boys who only speak Japanese.

As Jack would say, "Well, that was awkward."