Look Ma, I'm Riding With No Hands

My mother is a little bit taller than me
But who knows how long it will be like that
Cause things are changin'
I get a little taller every day

My father is a little bit smarter than me
But who knows how much longer things will be like that
Cause things are changin'
And I've been changin'
I get a little smarter every day

My dreams are a little bit bigger than me
But who knows how much longer things will be like that
Cause things are changin'
And I've been changin'
I get a little bigger every day

Ho-dee-oh, over the rainbow
Hi-dee-hi, to the top of the sky
Look at me, ma, I'm riding with no hands
I do the best I can

I didn't even get the opportunity to cry and grieve properly on Mason's first day of Kindergarten. Trying to get him to hold still for a picture in front of the house was tough. His smile belies the angst he is feeling. His feet are really moving in the picture they are just moving so fast that they appear stationary to the untrained eye. He wanted to get going and I was an obstacle in front of the big yellow bus that he was sure he was going to be late for if I snapped one more picture. So, I took pictures as the 3 minutes played out. Him waving goodbye and then running to the bus stop. Boy, was he surprised when I showed up to wait with him. That's right, Mr. Fluffernutter. You got me for another 13 years. There was no talking him out of NOT taking the school bus the 1/12 of a mile to the school regardless of the fact he would just be sitting there for the half hour it takes to pick up the rest of the neighborhood who actually needs a ride. I showed up at the school about 5 minutes into the beginning of class so I could drop Mason's class supplies off and was barred at the door in a very 'friendly' way. I understand it's difficult for some parents and children to be separated so they didn't want my presence to disrupt the flow of things. Fair enough. I poked my head in far enough so Mason would see me and he did; he blew me a kiss and without further ado nor a second glance, went back to listening to his teacher. The lump that had been forming all morning was rising and the tears were stinging the corners of my eyes. How can he have gotten so big without me seeing? Haven't I been here all this time? Haven't I made it a point to be here for him all this time?Haven't I stayed home and been the special person he always went to when he was sad, happy, hurt, proud, silly? When did he stop wanting to share his time with me? Will he want to again? All these self-pitying questions are just that; self-pitying and pathetic. It's life. It's part of being a mom. I'm glad Mason's independent and willing to explore things that are unfamiliar to him. I love that he is daring yet cautious. He is charismatic, funny, absolutely adorable, and so polite at other people's houses. He is gracious, confident with a small degree of humility, giving-especially after he's had a turn, smart-oh so smart about crazy things like how much a Virginia opossum weighs, and creative. Most of all I love that he is such a great combination of me and Matt. He has my eyes and freckles, but Matt's lean build and thick can't-do-nothing-with-it hair. He has Matt's confidence and our compassion and willingness to help others. Maybe no-hands is OK as long as he stops once in a while to make sure I'm still watching.