My baby boy officially starts school this week and I’m kind of a mess. My dad is still perplexed by the fact that an almost two year old passes the height requirement for something we call school. To clarify, Jack is attending his school which is affiliated with our church for 3 hours a day this fall. So he’s still got a few years before he’s actually in pre-school. Now that y’all aren’t under the impression that my kid is a scholastic prodigy and hopping on the bus today(ha!), can I take moment to talk about my feelings?!
Jack is my third and last child, so I’m holding on preeeety tight to all things that are “my last” in this journey we call motherhood. For starters, he still takes a bottle next to me in bed every morning. We’re not co-sleeping, but I love stumbling into Jacks nursery to scoop him from his crib to my bed. We bond over coffee and bottles every morning and this time is everything to me. I carry this kid everywhere, because well I like him on my hip. Yes, I will likely need PT from all of the heavy lifting (he’s almost 30 pounds!), but it’s totally worth it. And if I even think about talking about the day when we cut his curls I’ll burst into tears. Changing the subject NOW.
It’s funny because with my first two kids, I found myself living for the next milestone that encouraged independence. Now, I’m kind of dreading hitting these milestones since this is my last time hitting them. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of things I’ll celebrate as Jack trends towards being a functioning human. Bret and I dream of the day when we can explore new places with the kids without diapers and nap times. So there’s my silver lining, I suppose.
I’ve read the book, I Love You Forever to all of my kids but it’s words resonate with me now more than ever. “I love you forever, I like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”