My baby is growing up.
Sounds like a pretty obvious statement I know. He is starting 5th grade next week. He is 10 years old.
Over the summer we've been home every day together. Just doing what we do. I've had a first row seat to every thought, feeling, attitude, idea, and quirk to come his way.
I can see the changes.
It is quite easy to brush aside the mental and emotional changes. They are, after all, not very concrete. Just slips of whispers on the wind gliding by...
The physical changes are a bit harder. He's changing. His body is changing. He's going from my sweet little boy to a young man.
Ten is a little too young, you think? Not so.
With every wrangled bath, every swipe of deodorant, every dark new hair, each independent new thought, every new inch he grows, I know.
It kind of makes me want to turn back the clock. Try to make up for all those times when I just "didn't have the time" to do so much with him when he was little. I want to embrace the little boy just a little more before I face the man he is becoming.
But I can't turn back time. I can't even slow time. I'm left to only live here in the present moment with him. Snuggling as long as he'll let me. Accepting his many kisses on the cheek. And loving the thoughtful polite little man he is turning out to be.
My mommy heart is breaking. But at the same time, it is bursting with the joy of seeing the amazing person he is turning out to be.
I am, beyond a doubt, one happy and proud mama.