My baby, child number four, started kindergarten this year and it truly, physically hurt.  I’m not exactly sure why I’ve had such a strong visceral reaction.  I don’t know if it’s because he’s the last one or if it’s because of the grief I’ve been feeling all summer.  Either way, the event has left me with a thin veil of melancholy, which is affecting my overall outlook on life lately.  Six weeks later and I’m still not passed it.  I now have two children in middle school and two in elementary school.  No more toddlers.  No more preschool.  Oh the cruelty of time…”The days are long, but the years are short.”

I’ve been dreading this all summer, but there was no more putting it off.  Cammy is six years-old, and he’s already been held back a year due to a number of factors: his July birthday, his physical size, his speech articulation and his mommy’s inability to let go.  When we attended kindergarten round-up before school started, I swear it felt like I was walking on death row, as I made my way down the hallway to what would be his first elementary school classroom.  I didn’t feel any of the excitement I’d felt when I did that with Hunter, nor any of the anxiety I’d had when I escorted Bear.  I didn’t struggle with bittersweet ambivalence as I’d had when it was Audrey’s turn.  This time, I felt sadness.  I felt old. Continue reading Sending My Baby Off to Kindergarten →