Last week, I walked into my son’s kindergarten classroom to find him reading one of those little I Can Read books to 5 preschoolers who had come upstairs from their own classroom for the reading mentor program. I had to turn away, acting like I had something caught in my eye so that his teachers wouldn’t realize I was wiping away the tears that were threatening to overflow.
The next day, I had to take my 3-year-old to the dentist. And goddammit, I shit you not, tears began welling up in my eyes again as he reclined in that chair.
“Look at him,” I sniffed to the dental assistant who was preparing to clean his little teeth. “He’s getting so big right before my eyes! He fills up the entire chair!”
I’m sure it took every ounce of control she had to resist pointing out that we were currently in a pediatric dentist’s office, and that most kids—barring those with severe growth deformities— filled up the chair.
It wouldn’t have mattered. It really wouldn’t have. Because those tears were coming out no matter what.
“It’s just—” I blubbered as she avoided eye contact as much as possible by busying herself with preparing her tools “—it’s just that my boys are growing up so fast.”
I was surprised she didn’t inconspicuously reach for any little red HELP buttons on the side of the chair and get security to haul me the fck out of there. Because that’s not batshit crazy, is it? Breaking down in the middle of the pediatric dentist’s office because your son fills the chair?
God help me.
It’s all going too quickly. I love them so much it hurts, and they’re growing up too fast. I need more kids so that when one starts growing up, it’s not so hard because another is right behind him, softening the blow of passing time with his own little milestones.
I swear, I’d have had an entire baseball team if I could’ve gotten over my distaste for pregnancy and months 0-24 in the life cycle of an infant. It’s the one teensy flaw, I think, in God’s design.
Don’t worry; I’m not blaspheming. He knows I feel this way. I told Him all about it every single day of the 9+ months of my pregnancy with my second son.
After I thanked Him, of course.
(Quit making fun of me. I went through 12 years of Catholic school and WE CAPITALIZE GOD'S PRONOUNS, dammit)