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My son started high school yesterday. And it was fine. Just fine. Okay, so I sat in the car afterwards and wept, but that’s not a big deal. I weep all the time these days.
Transitions are hard, and this one particularly so. I hadn’t anticipated how hard it would be. And it wasn’t the fact that my son was going to a new campus, with a new uniform, and new rules, and new independence. It wasn’t that he would have to make new friends, meet new teachers, or catch the bus home alone. I wasn’t worried about any of that and neither was he. It was what it all represented.
My son is growing up. When he was in primary school, he was still my little boy. Suddenly, with a new tie and a shiny pair of shoes, he had become a young man. His childhood was over.
Childhood is, truly, a magical time. There are endless possibilities and you don’t know how the story will end. And obviously my son’s story isn’t close to ending, but the first chapter has definitely closed.
Part of me is celebrating that fact. I am so proud of the beautiful person my son has become and how much he has grown over the past few years. But because I am ruminative, and a little very anxious, I can’t help reflecting on his childhood till now and of all the mistakes I’ve made. He was my first child – the ‘experiment’, one might say – and I got it wrong on so many occasions. I must have got it right on occasion too, because he has turned out pretty great, but I keep wishing I could go back to the beginning and start again, just undo all the mistakes and make it perfect.
Of course, I still have my girls – my big girl is in Year 5 and Boo is still in pre-school – but there is something profoundly significant about the milestones of your eldest. When they are born you become a parent for the first time. When they speak their first words you hear yourself called ‘Mama’ for the first time. When they start school you become the parent of a school kid. And when they start high school you are the parent of a high schooler. It’s huge.
Still, it’s not about me. It’s about him. My son. My son the high schooler…. (sorry, just having another little weep for a minute…) And my son the high schooler had a terrific day. He walked confidently into school, waved cheerfully goodbye, and caught the bus all the way home without any problems at all. And when he walked through the door, he said ‘Hi Mum, can I have a snack?’ as if the most momentous change in our lives hadn’t occurred at all.
So I’m okay. Because he’s okay. Still, I can tell you this now. Next year, when Boo starts school, I’m going to be a sobbing mess. Having a young man in the house is a wonderful thing. But having no baby anymore is going to absolutely break my heart.
Photo credit: © michaeljung – Fotolia.com
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! My first borns tarted high school this week too. It has all gone smoothly (apart from him staring at his timetable and asking “So I don’t get it mum- do I just go and do English or geometry when I feel like it?”) but it’s making me cry a little inside too. Seven years ago I wrote a piece for Sydney’s Child when he started primary school and titled it “Moving Day”- because it was, I thought, the start of him moving away from me. Pah! I knew NOTHING then! Now the real moving away begins.
Great piece. xx
This Friday i will be a total mess cos my baby starts High School and i am so NOT ready for that
My baby is all grown up . Life moves on i guess. I know she will be fine but will i ??
Not for a while. But we all will. Eventually. Right???
My baby girl starts Uq in a few weeks.So proud of the fiercely independent young lady she has grown to be and I wanted her to become. But, at the same time I so so miss that I am not needed as much any more or am needed in a much more different way.I think no matter how old they get we mums never stop thinking of them as our babies and every new change in their lives is a big change in ours too.Yes childhood is truely magical and we can only hope we have taught them to continue to find that magic in their adult lives x
I want to tell you it gets easier but I’m not sure it does. My eldest starts Yr 9 this week and all is great it’s just me going OMG only four years of highschool remain. The finish line is in sight and I want to grab her turn around and run back, back to days at the playgrounds (where I thought I would die of boredom), back to reading the same bedtime stories endlessly, back to being called “Mama”. But I can’t so instead I’ll just enjoy the experience and be proud of how great she is turning out – and perhaps teach her how to use the washing machine – she’s going to need to know that when she moves out. Moves OUT. WITHOUT ME. (breathe – is it too early for wine?).
Beautiful post Kerry. And I hear you! Being of the ruminating variety myself, I’m already worried about what is to come. My only (and everything) little girl started year 2 with a skip and a giggle this week, and that was hard enough for me! Some changes are subtle as they get older, others hit you like a hammer to the head. My heart feels for you Kerry. And for me too!! Xxo
My daughter is in year 6 this year. I watched her ‘blossom’ pretty much overnight this summer – into a young lady with a different gait, a different way of thinking, a different attitude. Even the way she’s speaking, the lilt in her voice, has suddenly become ‘teen’. It’s already freaking me out, so I can’t imagine what this high school experience has done to you. All I can say, in my infinite wisdom, is this: If in doubt, break out the vodka*.
*always drink responsibly – use a coaster.
good luck Kerri – won’t be long b4 marriage and children !- well it will – but won’t seem that way! just imagine 1st girl home to meet the ‘rents!xxx
Ahhh that did make tears well up and prick my eyes. I went from having two in the Junior School where I work to them both being in High School in consecutive years and now one of them has just turned 13. I had a massive guilt complex about their childhood being over and I’ll copy this poem for you it say’s it all:
If I Had My Child to Raise Over Again by Diane Loomans
If I had my child to raise all over again, I’d build self esteem first, and the house later. I’d fingerpaint more, and point the finger less. I would do less correcting and more connecting. I’d take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.
I would care to know less and know to care more. I’d take more hikes and fly more kites. I’d stop playing serious, and seriously play. I would run through more fields and gaze at more stars.
I’d do more hugging and less tugging. I’d see the oak tree in the acorn more often. I would be firm less often, and affirm much more. Id model less about the love of power, and more about the power of love.
I wish I could have shared those sad days of closure and moving on with you guys, it’s worse than any milestone of age in my own history. My children’s childhood ending was massively poignant.
Love Lucy x