Each and every year since my oldest son has begun kindergarten, we have anxiously and excitedly made our way to Open House. Really, just a chance to meet the teacher, check out who else is in your class and hopefully combat the butterflies that are beginning to flutter. This year marked our sixth year of attendance and our first year of having a classroom to visit for every child. While there is much to be said that is funny in this topic, that is not the prevailing thought that has stayed with me since we exited this year's tradition.
Truthfully, I had arranged for a sitter for Amos. It had not even occurred to me to take him to school to see his new classroom. He won't go until November, after his third birthday, but it was a chance to meet his classmates and check out the place that would be his own. We chose to go to his classroom first which thrilled him as he ran right in, found lots of interesting toys and gave all of us a chance to observe and ponder the here and now for Amos, or really the next and soon.
It was really hard. Really hard. I can't pretend it was not. I can't pretend that I wish it wasn't his classroom. I won't pretend that I wanted my three year old at big boy school years ahead of his siblings. I adored the preschool schedule they adhered to not so long ago. The two mornings a week for three year olds was nice and though I would have liked extra time, I loved being with them and held back my middle two as I just wasn't ready to send them from the sound to the scary ocean.
Amos is a different fish all together and to wrap my mind around that means to be open to a different road for him. That's the part that kills me. I don't like this road, I don't want this road, I am tired of this road and I want off. That's what my feeble mind tells my very achy heart. It does and my tears confirm that every time we do something new and smile bravely, our joy is always followed by my deep seated tears. I cry for my Amos and for me and our family. Do I love him? Of course we do, so very much. It's just that this is a side of life I never ever knew was out there and I don't know how to handle it other than to just feel the waves of emotion that wash over me time and time again.
It's not all tears. No, more often than not it's utter joy that is more fulfilling than the tears that are depleting. Last night, Amos lay in our bed and my oldest son asked to come in and snuggle with him. He was quiet beside me but once Thomas lay down, he was squealing and rolling and giggling. That's what it's like to love Amos, a wave of powerful thoughts and feelings when you least expect. And so. I'm not going to swim away or miss surfing life in the gift of Amos. The unknown is powerful but love finds a way, always.