Earlier this week, my son and I went to the summer reading party at Central Library. We were waiting in line for one of the activities and he said "look, Casey's here!"
I didn't know Casey. I didn't recognize this kid at all. But since he also recognized my son, I deduced that they are in the same class at preschool (as right now, that is the only place that my son interacts regularly with children that I don't know). I suggested they play rock-paper-scissors together in line, which they did, and then they sat on a bench next to each other and whispered and giggled and played.
Objectively I know my kid is his own person, with his own life, but I didn't really experience it before meeting Casey. I snuck a picture of the two of them playing together to remember the moment - the moment that I had to face the fact that my son's life is his own, and not mine. It was a reminder that I have a preschooler, and not the baby who only goes where I go, who needs only me for his everything.
And I was reminded of another blog post that I'd seen on Facebook (thanks, algorithm). I'm sharing a link to below, along with a quote from the middle of the post that most reflects my current state.
"My baby was gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. But this new toddler was the love of my life. He was into EVERYTHING. He bothered the cat and pulled pans from the cupboards and spent very little time on my lap. I chased him around the yard and watched him splash in the bath and rocked him as I sang every night. Then one day when I hoisted him out of the tub, he landed on two thin little legs. Then he ran down the hall with the towel flying out behind and hollered, “Momma, chase me!!!” My toddler was gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
But this new preschooler was the love of my life. He had SO MANY stories and the world’s most adorable laugh. He loved matchbox cars and Spiderman and constantly shouted “Watch this!!!” as he did ‘tricks’ off the couch. I watched and cheered and carried him piggyback and read him stories and tickled his back at bedtime. Then..."
https://herviewfromhome.com/motherhood-i-didnt-even-get-to-say-goodbye/
It goes on in this way, and because I'm a very emotional mother, it makes me a little teary eyed, because it resonates so much. This preschooler really *is* the love of my life. Singing in the car with him this morning filled me with so much joy, because it brought him joy. And part of me gets very excited about imagining the future versions of him that I will get to love as completely as I love him now.
On the other hand, "someone" (scare quotes because actually, it was an Instagram reel) once told me that being the mom of a little boy is like going through the longest break-up of your life. I hate saying it that way - the weird sexualization of a mother/son relationship, no thank you! - but I think the sentiment rings true. Parenting is the longest, most agonizing process of letting go. Setting up my child with the things I think he needs to make it through the world, and hoping that what I'm sending him out with is enough, but letting him go find out on his own. Watching him play with a friend I didn't know, I feel that I'm sending an open hearted little extrovert out into the world. And that, I can be happy with.
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