My babies are growing up. It's killing me. Absolutely killing me.
Tomorrow Davis starts kindergarten. The big yellow monster will come swallow him up and carry him away from me. And I'm going to be all alone.
When Andrew started kindergarten, he seemed like he was so old. Davis doesn't seem old enough to me. I mean, he is. He's been 14 for 2 years now. But he doesn't seem like he's "old" enough. These boys are two different characters. It's funny how they interact perfectly ... they get along so well. And it's so hard to believe that they are able to do that since they are such completely different people.
And Andrew - my little Andrew. He's so old anymore. He's such a big. Boy. Second grade! He's so smart. And so funny. And so mature. But at the same time, he's still my baby. For the past couple of nights, at bedtime, I'll be putting his blankets on him and I'll cover him up completely. Then I'll pull back his blankets and say, "where's my Andrew?!" and he giggles just like he did when I said the same thing when he was a baby. I love it and hate it all at the same time. It makes me cry terribly each time. It's just so cute. He has the same giggly reaction he had when he first learned peek-a-boo. It. Kills. Me.
I have written so many times that I'm a lucky gal. I know this to be true. Somehow or another, the sun shines on me every day, no matter the weather. I just wish I wasn't so weepy about it all the time. I still blame my grandfather for that. He cried about everything. And I've inherited that trait perfectly. It's not something I'm ashamed of, necessarily ... I wish it could be controlled a bit more. I feel so much overwhelming love for my boys - all 3 of them - that it hurts me. I literally feel pain from it.
When Andrew started kindergarten, he seemed like he was so old. Davis doesn't seem old enough to me. I mean, he is. He's been 14 for 2 years now. But he doesn't seem like he's "old" enough. These boys are two different characters. It's funny how they interact perfectly ... they get along so well. And it's so hard to believe that they are able to do that since they are such completely different people.
I have written so many times that I'm a lucky gal. I know this to be true. Somehow or another, the sun shines on me every day, no matter the weather. I just wish I wasn't so weepy about it all the time. I still blame my grandfather for that. He cried about everything. And I've inherited that trait perfectly. It's not something I'm ashamed of, necessarily ... I wish it could be controlled a bit more. I feel so much overwhelming love for my boys - all 3 of them - that it hurts me. I literally feel pain from it.