I find myself both celebrating and mourning each new accomplishment in Lucas's life. SIDENOTE:::I seriously need to figure out if it's Lucas' or Lucas's.... anyone? - I can only imagine the abundance of help I'll be when Lucas has English homework in high school.
Back to the point. Each milestone is incredibly bittersweet for me. His first haircut bring tears to my eyes each time I think about it. I remember the immense joy, incredible relief and intense pride I experienced when he started crawling successfully. Now, we're on to walking. And this kid, in true Romiglio fashion, can't ease his way into this incredible task. No, no. One day he figures out how to stand up from his armchair. The next day it's a bumbly step. The next day he walks 3 steps from Dadda to Mamma. Literally, within 3 days of his first couple steps, the kid is near running speed. He is walking clear across the living room. Granted, we don't have a huge living room. It does require a solid 15-20 steps from him though. He's mastered the transition from carpet to hardwood. He's even walking around the skatepark holding ONE of my hands. That's right. He grasps my hand, and it doesn't matter which one, and we are off. He even walked up a couple ramps today. Ramps that I have trouble walking up; the incline is pretty tough. He has no fear. I'm afraid that I carry the burden of enough fear for the two of us. I worry constantly. Will he bump his head? Will he twist an ankle? Will he scrape his knees or palms? OF COURSE HE WILL!
As a preschool teacher, daycare worker, and nanny I have always laughed at parents and their sentimental way. I always thought Moms were crazy in their instinctual over-protectiveness. Even the most laid back parents I know worried incessantly. Oh, man- what I would do to go back and erase those judgments. Who the hell did I think I was? I had NO IDEA. None. I may have worked with kids for 10+ years before having my own, but I didn't have the slightest sense of empathy for the bittersweetness of it all.
And until today, when I read this post on The Girl Who , I thought that I was the only one that both celebrated and mourned each milestone. I thought that I was teetering on a line of insanity. I thought that maybe something was wrong with me. But now, upon reading her blog entry, and reading a few others, I realize that all mothers feel some degree of sadness as their baby birds get their wings ready for flight.
I can't believe that at some point I'm going to look into Lucas' (Lucas's???) eyes as he gets ready for kindergarten, or baseball practice. I'll have to help him put on a boutonnière for a prom. I'll have to try to figure out have to comfort him when he has his first broken heart. I'll have to help him learn to drive, and teach him how to treat girls. I'll have to help him find his passions, and encourage him to strive to achieve his dreams. I'll have to let him grow up. I'll have to come to terms with that fact that he will reach major milestones that I won't witness. I won't be there when he proposes to someone. I won't be there when he has his first (likely extremely awkward) kiss. I won't be there for his first job interviews, or when he takes his SATs. Well... maybe I won't be there physically but I certainly hope he carries me with him everywhere he goes. Like his Daddy does. He carries a bit of his mother with him at all times. Every decision he makes is rooted in what she has taught him. Every goal he achieves is due to her diligence as a mother. Every milestone he reaches is just as much her accomplishment s as it is his. I can only wish that one day Lucas will hold me on such a pedestal as John holds Claudette. I hope he realizes that everything I do is for him. Everything.
No comments:
Post a Comment