The End

Yesterday my five-year-old son, affectionately known here as "Nas", started "Kindie Camp". When I would tell friends and family about it I would ramble on and on about what the kids do while they are at camp, until my Mom dubbed it, simply, "where kids go learn to be kindergartners." Yep, that's it.

Anyway, today I had to take Jay to a summer dance workshop that started at 11. Nas is out of Kindie Camp at 11:30 so I figured I'd just sit in the car, read my magazine and wait until time to pick him up. So I'm sitting in the car enjoying an article about Angie Harmon, just reading along. I was a bit distracted because it was a bit warm sitting there so I noticed a mom and daughter picking up what sounded like "lettuce" from the front office - more likely letters - I noticed the purple car my daughter's 3rd grade teacher drives, then I happened to glance over at the playground.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it here but from time to time I worked during lunch and recess throughout the past two school years so I'd spent a whole heck of a lot of time on the playground. It's where I tied a 1st grader's shoes almost daily, the same 1st grader. It's where I listened to bright-eyed little girls who seemed to be thrilled to talk to me. It's where I got tanned on the warmer days and wore head-to-toe gear on the cold days. I'd even imagined it would be where Nas would play as a kindergartner. Imagined.

Today, that image came live and in color. I glanced up and didn't think much of the playground until I saw a black head of hair appear then disappear behind the equipment. It was my Nas. I caught another glimpse of him jumping off the equipment onto the ground below and...I...LOST it! It was an uncontrollable loss of composure that forced me to remove my sunglasses and just let it happen. It was inevitable because I am the emotional one who cries at every school event and, for sure, on every first day of school. I'm "that" mom.

There I sat, crying like I'd been punched in the gut because my little boy - my baby - was enjoying the playground with other kindies. He became one of the kindies I had to watch like a hawk during recess, they are quite young after all. I knew then that I am no longer in a transitional phase of motherhood, I've made the transition from being the mother of young kids to the mother of school-aged kids. That phase really is over. I knew the process started on Nas' last day of preschool - and it ended right there in the parking lot as I soaked the pages of Woman's Day magazine with my mommy tears.

There are so many blog entries here from years ago where I rejoiced in the mother of young children phase, and others where I, well...didn't rejoice. It seems all-consuming when you're knee deep in having babies, bottle feeding or breast feeding, getting them to sleep through the night, all of those doctor's appointments, potty-training, play groups, preschool...but like anything else, it all comes to an end.

Maybe today's flood of emotion is my bridge to the other side. I've been very hesitant to cross because this side of motherhood is familiar to me, now, after nine years. I guess I should just take a deep breath and take one step at a time and wait another however many years to adjust to that side of motherhood - only to have to come to the end of yet another phase. Who signed me up for this?!