Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Shot of reality.


I've already been on the verge of tears today about 10 times, and all of a sudden, another urge to feel sorry for myself just came over me.

Folks, in just over a week, I will officially be the parent of a high-schooler.

Tomorrow, the teenager starts marching band practice, and the beginning of a fairly busy week before school starts. We had the band parents meeting this evening, and got a chance to meet the directors. Monday, I took my son to get a hair cut and to buy something to wear for his school pictures on Friday. He would not budge on the style, which is the same he's had since he was 4, nor could I convince him that a little hair gel wouldn't kill him. Pick your battles, right?* He also determined that black and dark charcoal gray look best on him, which gave him a huge boost of confidence. He was also shocked that there was no school supply list, really, and that he pretty much got to choose what would work best for him, rather than someone else's idea of what works best for many. I think he's ready for this, but I really am not.

I am trying to get the schedule worked out, three calendars so that I can try to impress into my brain and into his how many different places he needs to be in the next week. I am afraid we're going to miss something...

Anyway, part of the reason that I am feeling a bit teary-eyed and nostalgic for his younger years, has to do with this:

Someone reminded me recently that in four short years, I will be an empty-nester.

Part of me had to laugh, but the other part felt incredibly old at that point, even though I generally don't feel old enough to even have a kid in high school. In four short years, he'll be starting college. I'll be forty.

What a cheerful thought.

Okay, I have to get some sleep so I can lug around equipment tomorrow again. Night folks!

1 comment:

nerdgarden said...

Yeesh. I'm in an age-related (I think) funk right now too, and we're only getting into junior high.

Hang in there, and tell your son good luck with H.S.