Savoring the small things....

Today was quite a day....for me.
Gage seemed to do just fine.
Me? I cried more than I expected to.
Really.

I truly didn't expect to cry.
Wedding day: thought I'd cry. I didn't.
Gage's birth: thought I'd cry. I didn't.
First day of Kindergarten: thought I wouldn't cry. I did.

The crying began on Sunday, when I sat in the living room, sharpening Gage's #2 pencils. You know---the required #2 pencils. They do not come sharpened, so I had to sharpen them. My mind just started thinking about his little hands, holding those pencils that I sharpened for him, and writing letters, and building words, and then I was crying. He's just growing up so fast.

Monday morning came. I was fine.
Gage told me on Sunday night that he wanted bacon & pancakes for breakfast. What Baby wants, Baby gets. So, there I was at 6am about to cook up this big ol' breakfast. For those of you who really know me----this is a monumental task that I was ready & willing to do for this child. He woke up, and his tummy was "yuck." This coming from the kid who previously told me that he was NOT going to school. When I assured him that he was & that I was going to bring him to school on August 22nd, just like all of the other boys & girls, he promptly informed me, "Well, I won't get out of the car." {I thought to myself: Great. I'm going to be THAT mother who uses her foot to slide the wee-one out of the car and then peeeeeeels out of the school parking lot, letting the door slam as I go. That's my future.} Anyhow...my initial reaction to his "tummy is yuck" comment was to think: Oh, here we go. He's going to pull that 'I'm sick, I can't go to school routine.' And then I thought a bit more about it, and I truly believe that it was just nerves. He was nervous! He refused to eat anything for breakfast, & so there it was: I was THAT mother who sent her kid to school with no breakfast. {...if you haven't noticed, THAT mother's a real f*ck up.}

Gage agreed to drink some chocolate milk for me.
He took his vitamins & took a bath.

He was ready to go & so was I.
...or so I thought.

Pictures from our morning...




And then we left for school.
I teared up driving down our street, but I didn't really cry.

We drive to the school. I park the car. We get out. We get the backpack, the lunchbox, the water bottle, the supplies, and the camera. Gage agreed to let me take a picture of him at his desk. I was consciously aware of the fact that his agreement with this will not last for years to come. As long as I can still get away with it, I'm going to.

So, we approach the school, which to me suddenly looks HUGE. My baby? He suddenly looks SO.SMALL. Like the school is going to somehow lose him. It's going to gobble him up.

We get to the door.
Super-Energetic-Greeter-Guy is at the door. He's probably a teacher or coach or something. I dunno. I'm new here. He's wearing a badge {not that I read it because hey, we've clearly identified me as THAT mother} and a school shirt, so he must belong, right?
"Hey man! Are you super excited about starting school!?!" (you could practically see him fighting back the urge to pull some air guitar moves.)
Gage:
{that above space: intentionally left blank. fill it with silence.}
Now addressing me, "What? Isn't he excited?"
Me: "Not as excited as you are."

And then we moved right along into the building.
And that's when it happened. My sweet & savory moment. This huge moment that just HIT me, and it was so sweet, and so subtle, and I just want to remember it forever.

We entered this hallway, where I swear the walls were five times taller than my child. We found ourselves in a sea of shiny white sneakers. Gage switched his lunchbox from his right hand to his left, and he reached for my hand. He was quiet, and looking ahead, but he reached for me. He suddenly seemed so small and vulnerable in this huge elementary school, and he reached for me. He needed me. And in a split second, I looked down at that little hand in mine, and I thought back to the day he was born: he had little-old-man-hands. He wasn't born with those fat fingers. Those little dents that go in at the knuckles on baby hands? No. Not him. He had these long, skinny, old man wrinkly hands, and they were just Gage. Just perfect. So tiny, and yet, so perfectly formed. And now his hands are so much bigger and just so different...so....'little boy.' But, he took my hand, and he led me down the hall directly to his classroom. He knew where he was supposed to go, and when we got there, he let go of my hand. He opened his locker and got right to work unloading supplies, putting away his lunch and finding his seat.

Gage & his teacher, Ms.P


He allowed a photo.
He allowed a hug.
He did not allow a kiss.
None of that matters because the best part of my day was when he reached for my hand, and I was there. I just want to savor every moment of it.
After our 'goodbye,' I walked down the hall out of the building. I walked to my car which was hard to find though mascara & tears. I was suddenly overwhelmed myself with these emotions that I didn't expect to have. I was just in awe of this small hand-holding moment, when I knew that Gage needed me to help him navigate the unfamiliar, he trusted me, and I was wholly present in that moment to soak it all in. I am just so appreciative of this memory.

Gagie, I love you beyond measure.
xoxo,
Mommy