4 years ago was the start of Covid “lockdown.” It feels like a lifetime ago and like yesterday all at once. My kids were in elementary school at the time- really an ideal time for life to pause. We were very stressed and confused by the disruption and headlines, but we were also able to blow off a lot of zoom school without consequence and enjoy time together we otherwise never would have had. I feel self-conscious writing that. Of course 2020 was awful, but I guess time has a way of sanding things down and now I remember the happy moments the clearest.
4 years in the future, my oldest child will be in her final semester of high school. I expect she’ll know what she’s doing in the fall and I hope her plans excite her. She’ll be focusing on soaking up her friends and her “lasts.” I hope it’s a happy time for her and I hope I got her some nice outfits to wear to all the assemblies where other students will win attendance awards.
I’ve been told many times over the years that the high school years pass in an instant. The warning plays in my head like a grotesque movie montage. I feel very squarely at this juncture between life with little kids and life with big kids. I’m still reminding my youngest to brush his teeth, but I can also start to see over the hill to life after the kids leave the house.
My husband cautions me all the time against “pre-grieving,” but I am not following his advice. I am grieving. It’s stunning to me that people survive this beautiful life. You wedge these delightful children into the center of your life and just when you start to feel competent and balanced, they leave you behind with a neck hump and stubborn belly fat. What the fuck!?
I briefly considered getting a divorce or infantilizing my kids to distract me from the pain of aging, but…better not. Instead, I’ll be brave and do my best to lead my family into a new chapter. Right now, it feels smart to focus on my marriage, my health, and building a family culture of trust, adventure and fun.