Rites of passage.

From that tiny fetus swimming and kicking in my stomach to the time I held a hungry, squirmy yelling kid in my arms, to now, when he leaves our home and flies the nest, we as parents have come a long way. The rites of passage have been happy, sad and sometimes heart breaking. This kid, our last one in particular has given us a few heart attacks, but many many more happy times. And to think we had him in the most unplanned and disorderly fashion, in the midst of life changing decisions the family was making.

The day he cut his first tooth was a delight. We were as it is struggling with feeding, with me wanting to feed him for a few more months and he struggling to break out and venture into the world of chewing and masticating. This fellow with his puppy fat and soft skin, whom I forever kept in diapers only, so that I could cuddle him any time I felt like, started school. The sight of him in a brand new uniform – Had I known then, that it would lead to this day, I would perhaps have kept him home. But again life has to spin and move.

Days of fever, heart breaks and happier days of winning matches, being chosen to lead the school in games, friends leaving, new friends, voice cracking, girl friends and girl friend issues, studies, SAT’s, Essays and now here we are.

It’s time for the kid to leave. I’ve already sent off the first one. It was heart breaking enough. We know in our hearts that this is their step into the real world. They might never come back home. Their rooms will remain empty for months on end and one day we shall hear that they might not occupy that room again. We don’t know, we think, but it’s a damn close possibility.

But whatever the future holds, what ever their lives lead them to do, we parents have years of spit, poop, pee, gurgles, laughter, love and hugs to hold us together for the rest of our lives.

 

 

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