The Last First Day

michael_0002-624x880After snapping the obligatory school photo of Michael this morning on the front porch, I suddenly realized–that’s the LAST picture.  Ever.  Thirteen pictures and my innocent six year old, who I was afraid would hear bad language on the dreaded school bus, is now literally an adult who drives himself to school. Seriously, that’s what happened to me–13 pictures and I am almost out of a job.  OK, You’re right.  It was 10,000 pictures, but only 13 on the front porch ready to head off to school.

It was crazy enough when the infant whom I carried home from the hospital in 1996 ( the one I feared I would kill since I had no formal “keep the kid alive” training), started talking after a year and then grew old enough to leave me to go to school all day.   I think that 1st picture was more challenging.  So much unknown:  Would he like his teacher?  Would she like him? Would he find a friend? Be a friend? Would he miss me? Embarrass me? Not miss me? We had been with each other almost 24 hours a day, seven days a week and then I just snapped a picture and  sent him away. But we survived–and he thrived.  He learned about being a friend.  And choosing friends. He learned how to meet the teacher’s expectations while at the same time preserving his free time.  Day by day and month by month he was growing into the man that God had designed him to be.

Much like the annual front door picture, there were also the Santa’s la100_1821p pictures.  I’m not sure when the last one of those was taken. But I do remember how big Michael began to look on Santa’s lap and wondered when all this growing occurred.  I was seeing him every day, but sometime, somehow he was getting enough nutrition from his picky eating days to grow. I wondered when the last Christmas was that he still wanted to play in the igloo at the Children’s Museum and when did he simply chose to observe the younger kids?  When did he stop asking for a penny to ride the horse at Meijer and when did he start having his own money, so that I could borrow his?  When did we transition from me bandaging his knees to him jump starting my car?  “Are you watching, Mom, because I want you to be able to do this on your own?”

The onset of the teen years brought airsoft guns to our home and airsoft battles to our yard.  It seemed like this era would last forever.  Sweaty boys, Mountain Dew & Oreos, white pellets scattered across the lawn, rolling around the garage floor, and trapped inIMG_2668 the dryer vent.  I’m not sure when this ended either, but last weekend 12 year-old Matthew had his first airsoft battle in the same back yard and Michael was there sharing his guns with the eager tweens.  It seems like this mom has a few more years of shouting about eye protection and keeping Oreos hidden in the bottom of the china cabinet, before this too will end again.

The eighteen year journey from infant to adult has flown by,  just like the older ladies at the store promised when he and I were mid-tantrum (his, not mine). The early days WERE marathons as we struggled with Michael’s disobedience and teaching him personal responsibility.  The messes reappeared each morning in the house while in the car I blew Cheerio dust off of my  seats as the smell of stale milk lingered in an invisible cloud anytime I drove without cracking the windows. But like each era, I’m not sure when I regained ownership of my house or my car, but I did and I know that I was there for it all.

I’m OK.  I’m not an emotional wreck–mostly because being a witness to an infant becoming a man is an amazing experience.  Each era mysteriously ended while new ones began. Even the pain and negative experiences were used to shape Michael into the young adult he is today.

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Enjoy your journey with little ones.  Pay attention to both the ends and the beginnings. The first step and the last diaper change.  The first smile and the last library music class.   Don’t rush through any of it or wish it away, because it will evolve and change and go away on its own, and you will want to say that you remember it all.

People don’t usually take a picture on the front porch and then jump in the car to drive off to college. But I plan to.  So I’m not finished yet!

 

 The Last First Day

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