A week from today my family will reach a major milestone. I've waited patiently for this day for years. Some days I cursed that it was so far in the future. Others I wept at the realization that it was so close. And now it stares me in the face like a time-bomb, ticking these last few minutes away before my boy -- my youngest and last child -- starts kindergarten.
I will no longer have a youngun at home with me. Spending day after day reading stories, watching Max & Ruby, trying to make it through each day with my sanity intact. My boy -- or as I like to refer to him, "The Boy," is a handful. He's what some of you may call Karma rolled into a cute little bundle. Until his arrival, I was the mom of two little girls. And while, at the time, I thought they were a handful, I can honestly say now that I was delusional. I had it made. They played Barbies, they played dress up, they sang songs with sweet lyrics and put on glorious puppet shows. They decorated cookies with icing, they brushed the kitty cats gently, they colored relatively inside the lines all through their early pre-school years.
Then we were blessed with our boy -- The Boy. Since then life has never been the same. And while my girls grew and went off to school, I still had my boy to keep me young. True, it wasn't the same preschool that I had with the girls. Instead of Barbie, the boy prefers to play with ants -- inside my living room. He never had a taste for decorating cookies and much preferred mixing cough syrup (with the easily removed childproof cap) and sandbox sand into his Fisher Price Sizzling Sounds kitchen set. It never worked quite right after that and sizzled at random times during the day and night until its batteries mercifully died 3 years later. He makes up his own lyrics to songs and they often involve bodily functions and rude noises.
The Boy entertains me daily with his musings on life like "I only like girls in the afternoon" and "it's fun to make shapes with my pee." And yes, urinating outside is the most fun thing a kid can do, or so he tells me. The Boy is an expert magician and often dons "invisible clothes" that allow him to run around fully clothed yet naked. When our doors get squeaky, he oils them with Elmer's glue. Instead of gently brushing the kitty cats he prefers to use my makeup on them and forget about coloring in the lines, he makes his own lines -- on the walls, on the floors, in the dirt and on his own body. He holds a grudge against me for not naming him "Superkid" when he was born and he says he wants to be a Mad Scientist when he grows up. Second choice is Evil Genius. But he's got a heart of gold and adopts all sorts of unfortunate souls as pets. There's "Signal" the pet tumbleweed we picked up in Arizona. And "Rolly" the roll of toilet paper he found under the seat in the minivan. He promises to love and care for it forever.
My days are never boring with The Boy as my constant companion. I will miss our spontaneous cuddle times in the middle of the day, when the big sisters are at school and it's just me and him. Our library story times and stopping for a cupcake that I sometimes let him eat BEFORE lunch. I'll miss going to the park and swinging and swinging and swinging some more. Our Sonic happy hour treats with cherry slushies and stopping to look at the puppies in the pet store.
I tell friends I'm popping the cork on a bottle of sparkling wine after dropping him off next Monday. I tell them I'm planning a massage and hiring a housekeeper. I'm stocking up on bons bons and catching up on my stories, I say. And yes, I will enjoy having a quiet house to myself for the first time in, like ever. But I'll also be the first one in line at pick-up that day. I'll be waiting for The Boy with a cherry slushie in hand, as we head off to the park to swing and swing and swing some more.
Lisa On Location Photography
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