Tag Archives: growing up

A Letter to my Kindergartner

9/17/2015

Dear Jack,

I didn’t expect that I would write you a letter on your first day of Kindergarten. I also did not expect to be so emotional on your first day. I did not burst into tears, but I did feel a welling up in my heart as I watched you walk with guarded confidence away from me and into your school. You did not freak out, you did not cry, you did not cling to me. I did not want you to do those things and I’m glad you didn’t, but I suddenly felt so…un-needed is not the right word, but the closest thing I could think of.

I walked in after your class and watched quietly as you took off your backpack, sweatshirt and hung them in your locker. I couldn’t help myself, I hopped forward and said “Let me help you.” I got out the markers, box of tissues and Ziploc bags we were asked to bring. I piled them carefully in your arms and told you to give them to the teacher. I stood back and watched as the precarious pile fell to the floor. I held back the urge to leap forward and help you again. You leaned down and piled the fallen items again. No frustration, no tears, no need for my help. You handed the items to your teacher and gave her your name, loud enough for her to hear, not shy. I felt my eyes sting and my heart clench and I was astounded.

You are a little boy. A little boy who can walk into your school and find your locker without my help. You are growing so fast.

You were a baby yesterday.

From the moment you were born you’ve been growing so fast. The newborn months gone in a flash. The toddler in you is gone, when? When did it slip away? You are growing up and away from me. And this is the first step. The first step away from me, and again my eyes are stinging and my heart is clenching.

I love you little bug.

Love,

Mama

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Then There Was 2014

The rush of the holidays is over. The New Year has been rung in and I have celebrated my 32nd year on Earth. Gifts were given, resolutions were made and drinks were imbibed.

As I reflect back on 2013 I actually feel a little older, a little wiser, a little bit more content with my life. I can’t say I’ve actually felt older after a birthday but this year I do. But it feels good. In 2013 I started trying to be a better person, someone people want to be around. I’m focusing on letting go of things I can’t control and being positive about life in general. Those things feel good to me, even when it’s hard to do.

I started focusing on that about mid-2013. It’s something I’m going to carry through to 2014, one of my resolutions of sorts.

Some people don’t do resolutions, I used to be one of them. I used to view resolutions as giving myself unachievable goals. They were usually physical goals too, like stop biting my fingernails, or loose some weight. I’ve always had trouble with the “loose some weight” resolution. It’s so vague and doesn’t name a way to do it that seems manageable on a daily basis. “Loose some weight” is equivalent to “write a novel.” Writing a novel seems ridiculously hard, even for an experienced writer. But, “write for twenty minutes a day” seems much less intimidating.

So this year I have quite the list of resolutions, but they’re pretty manageable. The hardest for me will be remaining positive (especially during my funks, it’s ridiculously difficult to stay positive when everything seems grim) and giving up control of uncontrollable things.

Did you make any resolutions this year?

High School Me

This week has been weird for me. Last Saturday I went to my birthday party, which was ’90’s themed. Basically I wore what I did every day in high school. That gave me sort of a weird feeling by itself.

To continue the feeling of weirdness I delved into my diary from high school. It. Was. Excruciating. Seriously, so awful. Not only am I astounded at my sentence structure, grammar and the fact that I actually called boys “fine,” but I see my parents were right; I was a total dumb-ass in high school.

One could make the argument that most of us were dumb-asses in  high school. That is probably true, however, it’s difficult to see others douchery when yours is being shoved in your face. I know, I know, I did it to myself. It was my fault for reading it to begin with, but I had a good reason.

Every Boy!

I have a crush on EVERY BOY!
Seriously, shut up.

The thing I hate most about my diary is the fact that in each entry I talk about a crush I have on a new boy. I might stay consistent with one boy for awhile, but inevitably a new one crops up. I’m not sure why this bothers me so much. Maybe it’s because I pride myself on being such a loyal and loving person. I never made such claims in high school but I do now. My attitude towards the opposite sex now is so different from what it was in high school.

I’m so glad that with time we (usually) grow out of stupid phases like that. It’s a relief to realize that I have changed a lot since then and I know that I can never go back to being that selfish again. The reasons I give for breaking up with boys, or developing a new crush are ridiculous and make no sense. I’m glad that when I look back I don’t think about how much I can still relate. I look back and wonder, what the hell was I thinking?! Which actually makes me feel pretty good about the woman I’ve become.

A Seven Year Old Runs Away

When I was a little kid I ran away from home once. We were still in the house I remember as our first home in the desert, so I couldn’t have been older than…seven or eight. I don’t remember the specifics but I think I was in trouble, so I was confined to my bedroom. I was really angry. I got out my prized Pink Panther notepad (so they would know I was very serious) and left a note. Something like “I ran away, goodbye! I’m never coming back!”

Mom was taking a nap and Dad was watching TV or maybe he wasn’t home. But I do remember that I had to sneak out of my room, go down the hall, past the living room (where my Dad would have been watching TV… maybe he was in the bathroom), go through the kitchen and out the back door. Then I crept down the side of the house where I found one of our small kitchen knives. I have no idea why it was out there, but there it was. I thought I should use it. I cut a small hole in my screen (I mean really small, I think my hand could have fit through it) so my parents would think I got out through the window, which was important to me for some reason.

After cutting a hole in my screen I opened our gate and was home free! I ran down the street happily. The neighbor kids were outside playing and started to run with me asking what I was doing.

“I’m running away!” I said proudly.

“Cool!” They said. They wanted to come too so we all kept running down the street together. What’s funny now is I can’t remember who was coming with me. I think a girl from across the street and maybe another boy. I can not for the life of me conjure up their names though.

About one minute later I stopped and really thought about what I was doing. I thought as hard a seven year old can. I thought of mommy and daddy and my little sister. Then in truly dramatic form I threw my arms in the air.

“I can’t do this!” I turned and sprinted home. I flew through the gate, and back door. I ran all the way down the hall and flung myself onto my napping mother. I was sobbing. She was groggy and confused. Looking back she probably had a migraine because the room was really dark.

“I’m so sorry.” I wailed, my head buried in her neck. “I ran away. I ran away!”

My mom smoothed my hair and told me it was alright.

“I couldn’t stay away. I came back.” I was still sobbing. “I cut my screen too. To get away.”

“That’s alright honey. We’ll get you a new one.” I cuddled close to my mother.

“Ok.” I sniffled. “Can it have a rainbow on it?”

And that’s the story of the one time I ran away from home.