We thought we had time…

We thought we had a few more years until it all started.

The love notes.  Names of boys doodled on scrap pieces of paper.  Talk about boyfriends and girlfriends.

“She’s only in Kindergarten,” I thought, naively.  But I had no idea how early it started.

I thought I had plenty of time before my hair started really turning white.

We thought we had a few more years until dad had to dust off the shotgun to ward off potential suitors.  (Kidding, people.  We don’t even own a shotgun.  Yet.)

Apparently, we were wrong.

iPhone Photo Phun

Monday through Friday Momma

It’s Monday morning.

We stand at the window, watching as she runs to the bus stop.  She gets to the corner, and sucks her thumb as she waits in line, looking so tiny amongst all of the other grade schoolers.  A few minutes later, the bus comes, and she’s off for another day of adventure.

And I realize I’m once again a Monday through Friday Momma.

I knew things would change quickly for her once she got into Kindergarten.  But what I never realized is how it would impact me as a parent.

I’m a different mother Monday through Friday.  I’m no longer Saturday and Sunday Momma.

Saturday and Sunday Momma helps her daughter into her carseat.  She helps her buckle the straps, and holds her hand tightly in parking lots.  Monday through Friday Momma sends her daughter off onto the school bus every day.  She hopes her daughter has learned enough to look both ways before crossing the street, and to be careful of cars.

Saturday and Sunday Momma makes sure we have a warm coat and hat on when we go out.  Monday through Friday Momma knows that, even if the coat is sent to school, it’s often shed the moment she’s safely aboard the bus, and remains shoved in the backpack throughout the day.

Saturday and Sunday Momma makes sure the fruit and vegetables are eaten, and that at least one “no, thank you bite” of everything is eaten before dessert can be consumed.  Monday through Friday Momma is the one who tucks the cookie at the bottom corner of the lunchbox every morning, hoping it will be discovered after the carrot sticks are eaten.  She is also the same one who unpacks the same uneaten carrot sticks from the lunchbox later that afternoon.

Saturday and Sunday Momma still, on occasion, helps her daughter go potty.  The phrases “Flush!” and “Wash!” are hollered often on Saturday and Sunday.  Monday through Friday Momma remembers the fact she goes on her own, far away from home, every day, and doesn’t require any adult assistance (even if she does forget to flush at school).

Saturday and Sunday Momma will intervene on the playground if an adult is not around.  “Play nicely,” she’ll remind.  She forgets what Monday through Friday Momma already knows: that kids do not always place nicely, share or use kind words.  And there is often not an adult around to intervene.  Sometimes, they need to figure out how to resolve conflict on their own.

Saturday and Sunday Momma still thinks of her daughter as a preschooler.  Because up until a few months ago, she was a preschooler.  But she’s crossed the threshold into elementary school.

And what a difference that makes.

Monday through Friday Momma is learning, ever so slowly to let go.  She resisted it at first.  But then she realized it was inevitable.  When it came down to it, she really had no choice in the matter.

She’s Monday through Friday Momma now.

Maybe that’s why she looks forward to the weekends so much.

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