Sep 06 2008
“I’m too big for that mom”
“I’m too big for that mom.” Those words ripped through my heart like a knife. If I had never felt my heart break before, Tuesday was the day I would realize what it really feels like to be heartbroken. The funny thing is, I never thought that my five year old son would be my first true lesson in heartbreak. Sure, I have felt my fair share of sadness as a result of old loves lost, but last week, I actually felt a squeezing pain in my chest–I can’t really explain it; but it truly was like my heart was broken for a second–okay longer. I believe it was my first real heart “ACHE”. My son started first grade on Tuesday. Eager to be the big kid—the first grader on the first floor with his new first grade friends and his first grade teacher with his first grade uniform and his first grade books. I was so happy to see him so excited, so happy, so handsome, and growing up. We took the ride to school and I watched him through my rear view window as he excitedly rambled on about who might be his teacher, and which of his kindergarten friends would be in his new class. How did this happen? How did my first born baby become a first grader? Worse than that, how much bigger do I have to let him get???? =( UGH! I am so happy and so sad all at once. Is that crazy? Okay, so you are still waiting for the heartbreak part–right? We pulled up on the block of the school, parked, unbuckled and got out. He held my hand as we crossed the street. I grew a bit nervous with each step, remembering last year and the year before and how too many times I had to talk him into going into school. How I had to reassure him that everything would be okay. I remembered the tears that came for the first two months of pre-k when I had to assure him that Fire-drills were just walks outside and not real fires. I remembered how I had to assure him that I would be there when he came out. I remembered how I had to console him when he was afraid that a certain boy would hit him everyday. I thought about all of the time and t.l.c it took to get him through last year. I took a deep breath as we neared the gate, we stopped and he gave me a big hug. I asked him to remind me what his class number was (not because I forgot, but because I wanted to make sure he remembered for himself). “301″ he said. “No Baby, 1-103″, I said. He repeated it and I hoped he would remember it beyond the doors. He gave me another big hug and began to pull away. “Can I have a kiss?” I said…..
”I’m too big for that mom.” he replied. There they were: the words that would deliver the ache that resounds in my heart even today–four days later. These words came from the boy who only last September through June would say: “I need another kiss” and another and another before school. These words came from the little boy who would walk into the gate last year and through a closed gate pucker his lips and give me a kiss and then kiss his hand and place it against mine. These words from the boy who all of the moms would say: “Oh my God-he’s adorable” as he would take twenty steps and turn and yell: “I love you mom” and walk a few steps more, turn and say: “I love you mom” and continue for a few more steps and repeat the pattern until he was in the door that seemed a mile away from me through that gate. But there they were: “I’m too big for that mom” dropped in my lap like a ball of cement that nearly knocked me down and crushed my soul. It sounds overly dramatic, but I swear that is how I felt. As I drove to the bus stop to catch my bus into Manhattan, I fought back a tear (ok-twenty thousand tears) thinking about how big my boy has gotten and how happy I really was that he was happy for his first day of school.
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