I have been scrolling, or better yet, trolling, through my Facebook feed as of late…usually right before I go to sleep, holding onto my College Freshman’s blanket that he left here on his bed in his bedroom…sometimes even crying myself to sleep, remembering the little boy that he used to be, not so long ago, if only in my mind….AND….I see all the cute little pictures of the little pre-k’ers and the little kindergartners and the captions from their mothers about how sad they are to see their babies go off to school! Oh, how they never knew how hard this day would be! Oh how hard it was for them! etc. etc. Let me tell you mothers something. Put on your big girl panties and deal with it. Immediately, if not sooner. YOU, Madame, do not have a fucking clue of what is to come, and in your not-too-distant-future! In fact, one morning, little Junior is leaving for Pre-K, and the next morning, he is a Senior in high school. Yes, ma’am, that is exactly how it happens. You are enjoying his little baby hair, and his little smocked john-john’s now, but enjoy it while it lasts, Mama. Junior is going to grow up, fast. Your ass is gonna be shopping at Abercrombie and Fitch for the muscle fit polo, crew neck, and v neck: ASAP.
It comes in solids and stripes-all color combinations you can possibly think of. And be prepared. That place reeks of eau de teen. You will want to vomit about 20 feet outside the store. Carry a paper bag in your purse–you can use it to breathe into. Enjoy the little saddle shoes and English sandals too, Mama, because Junior is gonna go for nothing but Chuck Taylor’s. High and Low. Mostly in black. Because what doesn’t go with black? And Mama, while you are at it, enjoy little Junior’s longish hair….because he is going to have a Mohawk one day. A big one. And you are gonna need to flat iron that bitch with a shit load of Got2B Spiked Up Gel.
While you are at it, Mama, enjoy little Junior liking YOU, because eventually, he is going to pretty much hate your fucking guts. Everything you do is gonna be wrong….what you say and how you say it….even the way you look out of your eyeballs at him. I can hear you right now, Mama, “not my little Junior!” That will be one big platter of bullshit for you, Mama! Just you wait…. Right now, your little Junior wants to be by your side every minute of every day, and he wants to talk to you…But in just a few very short years, little Junior is gonna shut himself in his room and never come out. Except to go to school, and only then because you will tell him about the evil, awful truant officer who will come and get him if he doesn’t come out. And soon after that, the only word you will ever hear from Junior is “whatever” or possibly “no”. I know I have scared you, Mama. You should be scared. It does level out a bit, around the end of 11th grade. That’s when they realize they are almost outta here and you realize you are about to lose them forever. They are finally happy! And you, Mama, you are holding on to whatever time you’ve got left with Junior, and at that point, it ain’t much at all. I cried when all 3 of mine went to Pre-K and Kindergarten. It is nothing in comparison to what it feels like when a child goes off to college and you have to wake up and realize that, for the most part, as far as day to day living is concerned, with that one, that kid, your ass is done. Finished. It’s over. It feels like my heart has been pulled out of my body and run over by a Mack truck over and over again and then stabbed with a razor sharp butcher knife and then cut up into tiny pieces and then put into the Cuisinart. That is how much it hurts. The only consolation prizes are things like knowing that my kid is a good kid, and he has survived having me for his mother and still loves me. So, Mama, cry in your beer over your baby going to Pre-K or Kindergarten. You don’t know it yet, but that’s not really why you are crying. You are crying because it’s already the beginning of the end. I’m over here at my house rolling my eyes at you and wishing my big baby just walked out the door for Pre-K or Kindergarten. I’m over here at my house, clutching my big baby’s blanket and crying myself to sleep at night because he doesn’t really live here anymore. And you, Mama, do not feel sorry for me. You have no more time with your little Junior than I had with mine. Don’t blink. You’re up next.
