one week

Yesterday we went to Legoland and today the kids woke up sick because, my gosh, we just have the worst luck this time of year. Ethan left the doctor this morning with a diagnosis of strep throat and Carmen left with a double ear infection and pneumonia. I usually feel my skin crawl when the kids are sick because it means germs, and it means being stuck inside for days on end, and it means everyone is crabby and miserable and just wanting to be out in the world. This time, I feel calmer and less frustrated by being homebound while the antibiotics do their thing (the pneumonia thing, though, has me pretty on edge). School is back in session next Monday and while this has been information I've never needed as the parent to a child who isn't in school, now I do. Ethan goes back to school on Tuesday.

I haven't let my mind really absorb this information. I'm nervous for this new start, but Ethan is excited. I'm selfishly going to miss the groove of our mornings at home, snuggled up with no place to be. Ethan was temporarily in Pre-K for a (very) short time before I pulled him out after a couple of weeks due to the school not being the right fit. We've re-enrolled him at a small Montessori school instead. Three mornings a week, just to get used to Kindergarten next year. Three mornings a week of backpacks and walking him to a classroom and saying goodbye.

I'm not good at goodbye.

As a mom who has lost a child, I'm always in the minority in the loss community when it comes to associating growing up with feelings of heartbreak. I am grateful beyond measure to watch my children grow, but, oh. The ends of each era hurt as much as they fill me with pride. One day things will be different than they have been, and that one day is closer than I know what to do with. Each phase will be beautiful, sure, but right now I'm not ready to say goodbye to the way things are now. Ethan is excited and I am trying to channel some of that excitement, chasing it down with the reassurance that I was correct to follow his lead and wait until he was ready regardless of when the state declared him to be ready because of his birthday.

But today, all week, I have these two incredible babies in love with the world and one another. All week, I have every single morning devoted to them and nothing else, nowhere to be; just recovering from illness and lounging around the house in our pajamas. I'm determined to enjoy it all, even the crabby moments. Even the feverish ones and the 3 a.m. wake-ups and the snot and the albuterol treatments and the requests for food that no longer sounds appealing once it's been made.