|babygirl age four|
I am the mother of a high school student. I am the mother of a high school student. I am the mother of a high school student? Are you kidding me with this? In my mind, I AM the high school student. How is it possible this day has come? Better question: How is it possible I've accepted all the signs? Let's start with my wrinkles (you know I LOVE to speak of my wrinkles!), the fact that I finally started to color my hair and the best post 40 wake up call: it takes so long to lose weight and even longer to take it off and it takes Herculean discipline to stay fit - but one Oreo? ONE EFFIN Oreo? Right to my thighs. May as well rub those little cookies all over my backside because that's exactly where they land.
All the signs are present as I (kind of) gracefully pass through time, laughing at said signs and living the days go by. But the tangibility of my first born entering High School is sobering. Exciting. Terrifying. I feel like this is the start of something big, massive and lightning quick. Like a canon is ready to be shot and in four short years, my babygirl will be ready to leave me. She will leave me. She will leave me.
As a rational gal, I know I am raising her to do just that. To leave me and successfully live on her own. Making her own mistakes, her own successes independent of her Mama (sorry, I'm watching a lot of Friday Night Lights and I'm stuck with some Texan twang.) I know this, I pray for it and somedays I long for the solitude of an empty nest.
It's the beginnings and the endings that throw me. The ending of a life, the beginning of a career, the ending of a friendship. It seems like the doing, the living, with all it's ups and downs and laughs and grumbles goes on moment for moment. These transitions though always give me pause to reflect.