I just got back from Sam’s end of the year celebration, and I cried thru most of it. His little class, filled with his best friends, the boys that have formed such a big part of his identity, the girls who fluttered around him when he cried because he missed me, this little group of kids that are his peers and his buddies and his best friends, and they’re all up there, singing away together. Sam’s grown up so much this year, and even though we did this exact same event last year (down to the same part in the same play) he seems so much more confident now. He fits in so much better. He’s in there with kids his own age, he’s not the littlest boy, afraid and in over his head. He’s a great big almost seven year old boy, and I’m more proud of him than I can express.
I cry thru most events like this. Jessie’s dance recital does the same thing to me. I don’t know if it’s just that it’s concrete proof that the kids are not just mine, but individuals with their own identities and friends and projects. It’s kind of a quintessential thing, performing for parents, it’s something I did when I was a kid, it’s something I used to go watch my cousins and nieces and nephews do the same thing. And now, watching my own kids up there, and knowing what it took to get them there – the tears and the nerves and the anxiety and the struggles, I just end up sobbing thru every performance.
In other news – I still hate house hunting. I want to find a place, that we love and that we can afford (which are not precisely matching up yet), and be able to move this summer. The problem is that I keep falling in love with short sales, which can take FOREVER. I don’t want to move in FOREVER. I want to move in August. September at the latest. Which is a completely attainable goal, as long as we find the right place.
Recent Comments