I discovered today that the children’s playschool teachers are going to move Jacob up to the kinder room in a couple of weeks – I’m a little emotional about this news. On the one hand, I’m really happy for him – it’ll be an adventure and he’ll get to be with the big kids and in the same class as Ella for the year, and I’ve no doubt that he’ll learn heaps and absolutely love it, but there’s a little part of me that is crying ‘but he’s my baby! He’s still 2! He can’t be in Kindergarten!’
It seems to me that one of the most unexpected things about mothering is the way in which watching your children grow is like a series of tiny bereavements. While we delight in their achievements, in their growth and development, there is always a part of us that aches for the baby, the toddler, the small child they once were; the tiny person who is lost forever, who we will always miss enormously while we sit here loving and marveling at the amazing new child who has emerged. I suppose it’s just another reminder of how we need to treasure every moment, how we ought to aim to let all the frustrations just wash over us and cling tight to these wonderful moments which will one day be just memories.
I’m feeling rather tearful writing this and am suddenly consumed with an ache for my little ones. I’m going to go and pick them up from playschool now - don’t worry, I’m pretty sure that this sadness will have passed within about 10 minutes of our arriving home, when I will be yelling, tearing my hair out and wondering exactly how many more years of this I’ll have to endure before they can leave home!