I found some, super cute, new dishes at our local Home goods store a few weeks ago. I've been telling myself for awhile that is was time for a change. So I've been on the look out the last few months for some. When I walked into the store that day, I knew my wait was over. I carefully went through all the plates, bowls and smaller salad plates, looking for any dents or dings. Rolled my buggy to the counter, paid, and happily went on my way in life.
Fast forward to last Tuesday or I guess rewind, either way you know what I mean. I brought my oldest to the DMV to take his driver's test so he could get his license. He's had his permit since February of 2011, has gone through the mandatory state requirements and the (even more important) mom and dad requirements and we all felt that he was ready for the next footstep in the sand.
And he is.
But me, not so much.
He passed his test with flying colors, has gotten compliments on his driving from his drivers ed instructor, and the DMV instructor. He is patient when he needs to be and nervous when he needs to be, he does it all right.
But the first time he pulled off in my car with out me in it, to drive himself somewhere that I would not be, I got a little sea sick feeling. I didn't lose my shit, and I was very thankful for that, because we were in a public place and when you look up Ugly Cry in the dictionary, my face is what you would see :)
But sea sick non the less.
I was proud of myself and I celebrated that evening by happily taking my old dishes out and placing the newly washed, super cute, dishes in. I took all the old bowls, plates and smaller plates and made a stack on my counter. As I was stacking and repositioning I had a thought; I would pack these old dishes up and save them for Alex. In two years he would be going to college and this would be one less thing we would need to buy for him.
And then y'all, I lost my shit.
all
over
the
floor
All I remember was hearing myself mumbling through my snot something about his first steps, pubic hair, a car, leaving me, and then my funeral.
And then I regained my shit and went on with life.
I have found that tears, whether they are ugly or not, are just needed sometimes. At least for me.
For the happy and the sad and sometimes even the in between stuff.
I am SO happy and thankful and blessed that my boy is on such a great path in life.
And am even happier that God chose Brian and I to guide his journey.
But I do oh so wish that I could stretch the path out just a little bit longer.
You know - just so I can have more time to buy new dishes and daydream about my kids growing up and oh ya, lose my shit.....again and again and again.
