Kayaking and eye color

Aside from being healthy, I would guess that every parent has hopes for what their child will look like, which features will be passed down, and what their interests will be.

There were two things I really cared about.

Eye color and kayaking.

Seriously.

I mean, did I also want my kid to be cute and smart? Of course. I'm really happy I didn't give birth to an ugly dumb-dumb. But, in all reality, Toby having brown/black eyes and loving to kayak was among the top five things on my wishlist.

I fell in love with kayaking way before it was the cool thing to do. I was introduced to it when I was about 13 years-old and I quickly became obsessed. So, basically that means I've been a kayak-er for over TWENTY years. Sheesh.

My mother bought me my very first kayak. My parents had recently divorced and it was the first Christmas I had with just her. She worked a lot of overtime to be able to buy it for me and it was one of my most "favoritest" gifts ever.

When I met Aaron he thought kayaking was neat but, nothing he had ever really taken an interest in (kind of how I feel about cycling.) I'm lucky that he fell right in love with it. So, we purchased a kayak for him.

Then we had Toby. Obviously I really wanted him to love kayaking, too. So, we purchased a tandem kayak. He sits in the front with me while Aaron paddles us around (tough life.)

Then, Aaron made Toby a special seat in the tandem kayak.

Then, Toby wanted to start sitting in the kayak by himself with Dada.

So, obviously, the next step was to buy Toby his very own.

And he loves it.

Last weekend, Toby kayaked for the first time "all by himself." If you've ever been in a kayak you must know that you don't have to be in amazing physical shape to simply propel yourself through the water using only a paddle. You do, however, need to have a little bit of balance. Well, Toby is three and squirmy but, he held his own paddling along (he was also tethered to Aaron's kayak.) He didn't tip once. He figured it out quickly and tolerated about an hour of kayaking before he wanted to go fishing and have a snack.

I'm one proud Mama.

By the way, in case you were wondering, Toby has brown/black eyes. Soooo, all of his other awesomeness is a total bonus... and I'm two for two.

Vulnerability

The first of August hit me like a ton of bricks. All summer I've been totally fine and even excited about Toby starting school this fall. Until Saturday.

I'm about to get dramatic and mushy... and confusing. Turn back now if you're not up for the ride.

Toby starts school September 1st. As I changed my calendar, it occured to me that this is the last month he has before he starts a long educational career. Yes, I know he's only three. Yes, I know it's only 3 days per week. But, it's school. It's not a baby-sitter. It's not his nanny. It's a school. We had to apply. He had to interview. I had to write a tuition check. He has a dress code.

In a month he will meet peers and classmates he could potentially be with until he is 14-years-old (should he continue pursuing Montessori.) Every single thing we've done with him, since birth, has been measured, intentional, and purposeful. But, in less than a month, we will have little control over his daily activities three days per week.

I'm not looking for an antidote, or a cliche reassuring me that he will do just fine. That he will thrive. That he will be great with his peers. How good it will be for him to get a new experience. I know all of this. That's why we chose to enroll him. He is so ready for something new. We know our kid. He is compassionate. He is thoughtful. He compliments people. He is affectionate. I know he's smart. I also know he will have some struggles adjusting. I'm anticipating that. I'm not concerned about those things. I expect those things.

I'm worried about how I'm going to feel.

Part of me is scared I messed something up... that I/we failed him somehow. I know we all do the best we can. And again, I'm not looking for an antidote; I'm not striving for perfection from anyone, but, allow me to just free associate here.

Once I drop him off, all bets are off. He's subject to the real world. Being bullied, or being a bully. Hearing truths about politics and Santa Claus. I won't get to see his face the first time he solves a math problem. I won't know exactly how much he ate for lunch (yes, my nanny keeps copious notes for me.) I know I currently miss some of these things anyway... but that's not my point. My point is that it's possible nobody will see his face the first time he solves a math problem. It's likely he will throw his lunch away, maybe without anyone checking to see how much he ate. That thought destroys me.

I remember the feeling I had the first time he got up from playing, walked into the bathroom, used the potty, flushed the toilet, washed his hands and then came back to play. It was such a sadness for me. Of course I was happy but, I also had this sinking feeling that my little baby was slipping away.

September 1st makes his growing up feel way more real to me.

I know he's ready for this. I know he will do great. He really is an extraordinary kid. People enjoy being around him. Not only is he ready for this... he needs this. He needs (more) peer interaction. He needs a bit more structure (as much as Montessori offers.) He needs to learn to follow instructions. He also needs to learn social justice, patience, and consequential thinking.

But I'm still sad. And I'm scared. And I'm worried about the world being cruel to my sweet little boy. As much as I know it's important for him to be picked last, ignored by a peer, or disciplined by an instructor... I hate that he will suffer little heartbreaks because of this. Just because they are an important part of growing up doesn't mean I have to like them.

I have so much more to say about this but I don't have the words for it. I'm so incredibly excited for him; for us. I look so forward to seeing what he is interested in and who he turns into while I'm not buzzing around overhead. But, there is still a painful loss in what we'll gain. You know?

In the meantime. While I fluctuate at a diagnostically significant rate between excitement and dread, we're doing everything we can to make this an incredibly memorable summer for him. Memorable as in... zoos, amusement parks, quiet family picnics, helicopter rides and vacations up the wazoo. But, that's for another post.

And, to end this on a positive note. With the exception of his first day of school outfit... which is being custom made as we speak, and a few things that are back-ordered, I have the majority of his school shopping done. That was, quite obviously, the easy part for me.

****Edit: I always title my posts after I write them. As I was thinking of what to call this story, I had several thoughts flood into my mind and I mentally pictured myself holding open my hands to a little baby bird flying out of them. The first word I associated to my mind's picture was "vulnerable." As I typed the word in the header I pondered why I chose that word. When I challenged myself to think deeper into it, I realized that I feel so exposed sending my son out into the world. He is absolutely everything to me. Therefore, I have everything to lose. I take such care and pride in intentionally parenting him that now I'm sending him out into the world... as if to say, "See? See what I made? I'm so very proud of him. This is my creation and I just love him so much. Please be very careful with him."

And that makes me feel incredibly vulnerable.