The Summer Days Are Numbered

Gannon's backpack arrived from Land's End yesterday.  Opening the box was exciting for him.  He chose the color red, with his name embroidered in white thread on the front.  Seeing him try on his new backpack stirred up a hurricane of emotions.  

My baby is five.  

My last baby starts kindergarten in less than a month.

My little boy is not so little anymore.  He is growing up.  Time is moving too fast.

I spent the afternoon trying to hold my baby boy, just for a moment longer.  I carried him on my hip and tried to remember his baby days.

"Mom, put me down! I don't want to be holded!" he lectured.

"You don't want to be held anymore?  This breaks my heart," I replied.

"Okay, you can have five more minutes," he said.

Those five minutes felt like five seconds before he ran outside to ride his bike.  It seems that from this moment on, I'll forever be staring at the back of his head as he continually leaves me behind with each new experience and adventure he takes on.

The thought of him going off to kindergarten has me sobbing. 

Even my ovaries are crying.

"Come on! Just one more baby," they scream.  "Look how cute and adorable they are!"

"Stop it, ladies! You are forty-one!  You're ready to retire," says my brain.

The logical side knows my family is complete.  The emotional side hasn't come to terms with that yet.  She'll get there.

As summer quickly draws to a close I am reminded how these days are numbered.  Dawson is soon to be 16 and ready to start driving.  Owen is almost 11 and trying to compete with his older brother.  And little Gannon is not far behind either of them as he learns his place as the baby of the family.  

As for me, I'm hanging on loosely, and tightly, all at the same time.  

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