First Lasts and Last Firsts

Tonight marks my oldest daughter's last Senior prom. She was so excited and so beautiful. She has put in so much work leading up to today. Not just today - Prom. I mean today - as in kind of a final celebration for all the commitment she's put into her entire K through 12 school career.

It's hard for me to step back and let her do it all on her own. She can certainly handle it, but because she's still so young, she doesn't know all the shortcuts to getting certain things done. So naturally, I want to jump in and tell her the answer to ordering the boutonniere, to planning the after party, to packing her clutch with necessities. I know she wants to do it herself, but it's still hard to watch them falter or come back with a result they may not be completely happy with. I try to make it my daily mantra: Let it go. She can do it. Give her the room she needs to find out for herself.

It's very hard.

She's my first child. My first child to graduate from school. My first child that will be going off to college. My first that I drove to pre-school and watched her jump out of the car door and run to the sidewalk with hardly a "'Bye Mom!" She's the first child I taught to drive my car. The list goes on and on.

This fall my oldest will be my first to go off to college, while my youngest will be my last to start Kindergarten. My last first day of Kindergarten.

How will I react? I'm sure it will be much the same as when the first had her first day of Kindergarten. I'll be teary-eyed, trying to hide it so that my girl can be brave. Except this time, there's no more little brothers or sisters for me to buckle into the car seat after I've pulled myself away from the classroom doorway. My last little baby girl is going to school. My last little girl is going to learn her alphabet and her addition and subtraction. She will learn how to read and progress in her reading levels. Which means that the children's books that we have hundreds of will begin to thin out and disappear. No more Clifford or Little Bear.

In many ways, all of this gets easier. I know what to expect. I know how to get from point A to point B. I know how to avoid many meltdowns. On the other hand, it's still just as hard. Letting go of these things is like saying good-bye to a dear old friend, to a piece of my life that I'm not ready to say good-bye to. Letting the crib go was hard. Letting the collection of newborn attire go was extremely difficult. The walker, the playpen, the bassinet, the stroller. They've all had their special time and place in our family, and we've parted ways. Never to see them again.

I suppose, even though I don't want to admit it (because I try so hard to be a ((excuse the French)) hard-ass), I'm an emotional person. And in the midst of these couple of months, I am quite the emotional mess, actually. Tearing up thinking about graduation, Kindergarten, 19th wedding anniversary, Mother's Day.... excuse me while I blow my nose...

It's hard letting go of the past, even though looking back and reminiscing is easy.
It's equally difficult to look forward to the future. Because all of these firsts and lasts means that we are all getting older; we are all moving forward at a sometimes alarming rate. I'm the person who really hates cliches, but when i figure that I've got another 13 years to go before my youngest graduates high school, I can really, truly, honestly say: It's going to fly by.

I apologize for being so mushy. It just seems to be the constant frame of mind I'm in lately. I like making progress. And I really love seeing my children make progress. I just wish it would all slow down. Even if it were only on the weekends. Just slow to a pace where we can actually look at each other and notice the small changes. The physical changes, the mental growth.

Alright. I'm done. I should have posted something about Mother's Day..... excuse while I blow my nose.