Our Summer ’17 has nearly reached its end. I can feel the fall weather creeping its way into the New England air. Particularly this week, the awkward week between when summer child care ends and they clean for the new school year that starts Monday. Kindergarten for A. It’s going to be a big year for him. I can’t talk about it too much or I’ll find myself crying.
Regardless, as it was the start of the last week of summer C and I do alternating days off because while schools refuse to take your kids for this week, your corporate job will never be kind enough to just GIVE you the days off, you have to figure it out. It was abnormally muggy for this time of year so I decided to pull out the inflatable pool for one last hurrah.
A was beside himself. Flip flopping back and forth between, “oh, thank you Mom!” and, “eww, bugs! I’m NOT going in,” I found myself getting annoyed. I went to all this trouble of finding that darn air pump thingy that inflates it in like 5 minutes and then inflating it, patching it, filling it, etc, etc. and you’re complaining! Ugh.
And then I looked over at R.
My agreeable second child. But really only because she doesn’t know better. And doesn’t have the voice to vocalize those opinions. And I realized that A used to be just as agreeable. And then he’s growing. And maturing. And formulating his own opinions. And he needs help to kind of rein in those emotions that can so easily get out of hand. He’s turning 5 in just 4 short weeks. And he’s still that loving and agreeable boy, who’s trying so desperately hard to figure out how to grow up too. Each autumn he gets just another year older, and another year wiser, and another year closer to needing me less. And as the autumn inches ever closer, it is constantly reminding me to be a guide, not a force, in his little life.
So here’s to you autumn, with your coming, comes mine and my babies’ birthdays. And their growing up. And mine too.