We made the decision to redshirt Ethan -- or keep him back a year, due to his summer birthday -- and although we knew then it was the right decision, this extra year at home with him has confirmed we made the right choice. You see, there is so much in life that is out of your hands and that doesn't go right. We had planned Wylie's conception when we did to fulfill my wishes to have two children at home at the same time. This was something that I'd always felt like I missed as someone who was about to begin middle school at the time my only sibling was born. Life sort of veered off in it's own way and as things spiraled out of control, I had to also mourn the loss of having two children home together at the same time before the school years kicked in. For a while, I made peace with that. When I made those four phone calls, I felt the sad tugging at my heart.
It is my wish to use Ethan's Pre-K year as one of transition. I am not at all concerned with Ethan's academic progress, nor am I really concerned with his social progress. Over the past few months, he has blossomed into the boy who follows all of the children around the playground asking if they want to be his friend. We are considering two mornings a week, though I'm open to discussing three mornings if it's something Ethan feels he wants to do, to warm him up to what Kindergarten will eventually entail. Kindergarten. We purchased our home a year before we were married because of the zoned schools and our high hopes and aspirations for our future children and, now, here we are. Just about there. Where does the time go?
I remember reading a quote once that was something along the lines of never regretting the time you spend with your children. I feel that in every ounce of my bones these days. I always have, but now I feel it so much stronger. I know within the depths of my soul that I've appreciated every minute of having my beautiful boy by my side at every second of every day. My partner in everything I do. We're talking six hours a week total and, yet, the thought of his hands not tugging on my shirt or burying themselves in my hair when he's nervous terrifies me. It saddens me. While I know -- and, unfortunately for myself, from a perspective many others cannot comprehend -- how lucky I am to see him grow up, I am still a little sad today.
Ethan, on the other hand, is eager to tour the preschools and asked if he could wear his backpack for practice. Earlier today my husband and I noted how Ethan's days of abstract scribbling have been replaced by intricate detailed drawings -- often with written titles -- and I'm feeling like the ins and outs of the tides of life have run me a little ragged today.
How did we get here already?