Five and a half years ago I read a list. It was a list of the things I "needed" to take to the hospital to give birth and welcome you to the world. I packed a bag for me. I packed a bag for you. For me, I packed magazines, clothes, pillows, snacks, some massage ball that has since been lost to the hallway closet, some suckers, and "It's a boy" chocolate cigars. For you, I packed your coming home outfit, little newborn onesies, a pacifier, and receiving blankets. It turns out the only thing I really needed to give birth was a birth canal and the only thing you really needed was a car seat. As we drove you home in our little Ford Focus, we both thought it was so strange to have this little person riding along with us and I made it, exhausted, through a bumpy ride home.
And now, tonight, here I find myself reading a list and packing a bag. A box of Crayola crayons, glue sticks, and colored pencils. A bottle of sanitizer and a box of tissues. A pencil box and a bookbag. Another bag to pack. All the while, I am thinking about that coming home outfit, onesies, your "bink" and of course your "Mick" that is nothing short of a rag now. When did those chubby thighs turn into knobby knees and those baby toes become gross big boy feet? Was my head turned when your gummy grin become a set of teeth that will no doubt, only become a pre-cursor to braces? Was I not listening when your vocabulary expanded beyond the word "woof?" Did I blink when your soft little baby hair became a crooked and sticking up little boy mess?
It's been five and a half years and we have the Transformers bag to show for it. You will go off tomorrow to your new school wearing your new clothes and make new friends. And I, well, I will think it will be so strange to be riding in our much bigger minvan, missing that little person riding on that bumpy road along with me.
