Last Saturday, I placed my little boy on a mighty stead.
And then, basically, I just let him go.
Fortunately, he came back to me.
Fortunately, he survived.
Though, as you can see, he had to hang on for dear life.
Two days before that, I strapped myself—willingly—into a rocket ship-type contraption and was flung into space at lightning speed, leaving my common sense and my flip-flops behind.
Just kidding! I wasn’t wearing flip-flops.
(I did, however, leave behind my dentures.)
The fact is, we’ve had a lot of excitement over the past couple of weeks—fun and excitement and family outings and whatnot—and I’ll tell you, I have needed these diversions. Why? Because this homeschooling mom has lost yet another student—Son Number Two, (aka Jem), who has gone to join Son Number One (aka Joe) at a private school just up the road.
Funny. I remember being asked—again and again and yet again—the question, “Are you always going to homeschool?” My reply has always been, “We’re going to take it a year at a time.”
The past two weeks have seen me amending this statement. Now I know that I’m taking it a day at a time…because that is the most that I can do. I don’t really want to think about what it’s like when they’re gone—when the school day runs for weeks on end because—guess what?—the kids are off at college.
Thank goodness I still have my boys home by 5:00.
Thank goodness they’re home in time for dinner and—even more importantly—are there to do the dishes when it’s done.
So yes, 12-year-old Jem is now a 7th grader. He is doing great so far and seems to like it, although he sighed at all the note-taking he did on the first day. (Get used to it, kid.)
On Tuesday, he went to the orientation while at the same time, I attended a very nice brunch with the other mothers of the 7th grade boys. As we nibbled our scones and visited over coffee and tea, I listened to some of the moms share their stories. One mother said that this was her youngest child and that she was putting three more children through college right now. Another mom talked about her 24-year-old daughter who’s been “sowing some wild oats” and was on her way to Thailand.
(The mom found that one out on Facebook.)
A third mom sighed at how fast her son was growing up. “He’s starting to pull away a bit,” she said, and the rest of us nodded sympathetically. “My husband says that they need to do this,” I told her. “It’s part of their becoming a man.”
“And plus,” I added, with a bit of grin, “There’s a reason why ‘Mommy’s Boy’ is a negative label. They really do need to pull away.”
But no one is saying that it’s easy.
You’re figuring out by now that the point of this post isn’t really pony rides and roller coasters. These things are the filler along the way—the fun and the love that keep us grounded. Most days I feel like my daughter in the photo below, whisking my head around fast to take it all in and leaning heavy on grace to see me through.
It’s the ride of a lifetime—the ride that’s my life.
I’m hanging onto every minute.