Tomorrow, Joey is taking Monkey Man fishing. I guess it's some kind of male-bonding thing, but the thought of sitting out in the heat with worms and hooks and smelly fish is less than appealing to me. Monkey Man is more than excited. I'm excited that I don't have to pack his lunch tomorrow, but that's just me.
Three weeks from today will be the first day of kindergarten. I've been sort of ignoring this whole thing all summer, but when I threw my back out at Target the other weekend unloading the bajillion school supplies that the school requires I realized that I really can't ignore it any longer. Not to mention the fact that I have a huge bag in my bedroom filled with such items as ten gluesticks. Why does one child need ten gluesticks, I ask? Not to mention - did anyone else as a child have to bring in half of the school supplies aisle? Seems to me that the SCHOOL actually provided this stuff and we managed just fine without any gluesticks, thank you very much.
A few of the badasses and I are plotting to take the day off from work...follow the bus up to the school, filming, waving and crying all at the same time, and then have a nice drunk lunch with pedicures. Sounds good in theory, but part of me feels like I probably won't be in the mood for anything other than a good long cry. Hell, I barely made it through the pre-K graduation ceremony in one piece - I can only imagine what the first day of kindergarten will be like as I watch Monkey Man jump off the bottom step of the bus with his trusty red LL Bean backpack strapped to his back. I am going to lose it.
It's not that I don't want him to grow up. He is so much damn fun right now, I love that kid like nobody's business.
Maybe it's knowing that this is my only shot. The only first day we're going to have. All the other things that we'll only get to experience once. And as much as I think I'm okay with it sometimes, sometimes - not so much.
I was sitting at Heather's pool on Sunday afternoon with Jay and Heather and all of the boys, and I watched Monkey Man doing cannonball after cannonball into the pool. This is the kid that only four weeks ago wouldn't put his face in the water, and here he was running and jumping without any fear whatsoever. The joy on his face was palpable. The wildness, the carefree nature of it all. Where does that all go as we get older?
I only hope that three weeks from now, I can hold his hand and jump into this whole experience with as much joy as he can. Until then, though, I'm going to sit on the side of the pool and just dip my feet in - and enjoy these last few days.