Lesson 42

Last night, a terrorist group named ISIS attacked multiple spots in Paris, France. I pray to God that by the time you're old enough to read this, things like this are nothing more than a note in a history book. You and Dad REALLY got into baseball this year. It seems only fitting that they also won the World Series this year. You loved staying up and watching the game. You and Dad watched on the couch and we ate junk food every night. I felt awful that the win came 2 hours past your bedtime on a school night. If I had known with 100% certainty, I would have let you stay up. We made it to the parade though. We went and sat for 4 hours at the side of a blocked in street, half a block from Dad's office. Over 800,000 people were there. Schools (including yours) closed for the day. We saw the trophy. We saw the players. It was a great day. I took a lot of pictures and made sure that I paid special attention to remember everything. Which brings me to Lesson 42...


I'm not going to lie. I was also scared shitless. A couple of years ago, someone set off bombs at the Boston Marathon. A boy, not much older than you, was killed. I almost had a panic attack at the thought of us being down there with all those people. If Dad hadn't announced at the last minute that he wanted to go, I may have stayed home. I watched you guys, but I also watched people. I watched for anyone who didn't seem to belong. I watched for people who had bags. I watched for unattended bags. I watched the trashcans. BUT we went. We went and we had fun. We made memories. These assholes WANT us to be afraid. I'm not going to pretend it isn't working, but I don't want my children growing up being scared to go outside. I struggle with that almost anytime we go out to a major event at a public place. I run scenarios in my mind about how I would try my best to protect you. It's not right. No one should have those thoughts. No one should live with that fear. I'm not going to pretend to know the answer to the problem. I wish I did. All I can do is hope that it won't be a problem forever. Hope that those assholes either come to their senses or they die. Hope that the new generation of their children see what their parents are and work to be better. Until then, I have to put on my game face and have fun. Even when it scares me.

Lesson 41

Here we are. Less than 2 weeks before you start school. We've filled the summer with lazy days, trips to Legoland and the aquarium, days at Paradise Park, time at the pool, our first family vacation, and a few park days when it wasn't so hot outside we'd fry. I hope you're ready. Some days you're excited about school, others you're not. I know you're going to do well. You're so smart. You ask tons of questions. You're reading pretty well, even if you refuse to do it. Your writing still needs work, but you're stubborn like Dad, so I'm just going to let the teacher solve that problem. I don't want you to hate it before you even start. You have a good base skill on writing, you'll learn quickly. My anxiety for you is increasing. I worry about you meeting friends, and how you'll adapt to lunch at the same time every day, with limited eating time. (You like to eat slow, and you're picky!) We bought your school clothes, and I almost cried. You're grown up. I don't mean that I don't still have a lot of parenting to do or that you don't still have years of growing to do. But now I'm going to have to share you. Share you with new friends and teachers. Share you with new activities and experiences. I'm not going to be there for all of your firsts anymore. The first time you eat lunch at school. The first time you're picked first for a team at recess. I'll be ok. You'll be ok. I'm planning to have a tea party all ready for you the first day you get off the bus so I can hear all about it. :) Which brings me to lesson 41...


I love you. I love you forever. I will always want to hear about your day. I will always want to hear about your life. I would hope by now that I don't need to say it, but in case I do. I will always want you to talk to me about anything. Even on days when I don't think my brain can take anymore. I'm not going to lie, I know there are times where I tune you out a bit. (In my defense you DO talk ALL the time. Like me. ;) ) I know there's going to be a time when you don't want to talk to me. I know you'll grow out of it. It will kill me, but I'll get through it. I know eventually, the "teen years" will be over and you'll be back to telling me things. (I was a teen too.) But always know that I will always want to hear about you. So, in 2 weeks when we have our tea party and you tell me all about your first day of school I will listen, and I promise, I won't freak out if you tell me you had your first kiss on your first day.

Lesson 40

Oh my first born. I haven't been as regular about these things as I'd like. Some of it is because we've been busy, and some is because I don't want to write just for the sake of doing it. I want these to mean something. We are enrolling you in school tomorrow. Early! In fact, I couldn't believe it when I saw that enrollment was starting in February. I cried all day. Then, we had the information meeting. I cried the whole way home. I'm sure I'll cry all day tomorrow to. I'm not dealing with you going to school well. It feels like the end. Not that I think you're going to hate school or you're going to move away tomorrow, it's just the first step. The first step you're going to take to grow up. It makes me look back at the last 5 years, and the mommy guilt whispers into my ear. Which brings me to lesson 40...

No matter what you do, when push comes to shove, there is going to be a little part of you that is going to feel like you should have done more. It's good in a way, it will help drive you to success. It will help you strive for being the best. But it's a kick in the ass when it works against you. I keep thinking back to the days when we have just sat at home, hanging out while I cleaned or did laundry. The days where we might not even leave the house for a couple of days because we just vegged out. I have to keep reminding myself of the trips to Legoland, the aquarium, Fritz's, the park, Union Station... you get the idea. I *KNOW* I'm a good mom, the best? I'm sure there are better ones, but I'm sure there are much worse ones too. I think at the end of the day, worrying you didn't do enough is a good sign. It shows you know you can always improve and always work on doing better. Don't let it drag you down, use it to your advantage. Always look for ways to do it better in the future, but don't let that make you feel like what you did accomplish wasn't enough.