Thinking about Thursdays

Today is the last Thursday of summer for me. It is the last Thursday of lazy mornings with Kai, the last Thursday of lunches with Clint. It is the last Thursday of having total freedom to watch Kai change, and it is something that I am struggling to see go. More daunting is that in two Thursdays, Kai will venture off into the world of story time and playgrounds, snack time and lunchboxes, a backpack of his own. He chose it you know. We went to Target, and he weighed the merits of the Cars lunchbox and a Cars backpack versus the Cars combo pack that included the lunchbox AND the backpack that matched. His tiny boy hands roamed the contours of each until he decided that the combo pack was the way to go. I think it was the symmetry of everything. If he could have only known how much he would cling to that symmetry as we dropped him off into a world that he will only view as asymmetrical, I am sure there would have been no contest. The best thing for him is to start Mother's Day Out. He loves kids. He loves to interact. He will overcome the abject terror he feels when he is with adult strangers. His little face will go from suspect to joy probably by late September. It will become a favored part of his week I am sure. But on this Thursday, all I can think is that two Thursdays from now the little boy I have known won't be quite my own anymore. His horizons are broadening, and I am required to be excited for him in spite of all the rough days I know lie ahead for him. As I reflect on Thursdays, I think back on Wednesday night when we began our bedtime routine of bath, diaper, teeth, fingernails, Gabba, and cuddle. As we were lying under the "bedtime cuddle blanket" on the couch downstairs, his little hands were folded on his chest. I could see his breath going up and down, and it was a picture of perfect peace. My heart was beating so fast because I felt panicked at the prospect of anyone ever leaving him out or calling him names. I was silently begging that whomever is in charge of watching over kids in that way would see him like this and know that though he could probably handle it, his mom for certain couldn't, so to please be easy with the mean kid business. As a mom I have never felt so vulnerable in my life. It is like a kick-you-in-the-stomach kind of love, and it is terrifying. I hope he knows that. I hope he knows that dropping him off in a couple of Thursdays (which I will probably make his dad do) also elicits a terror in me. The fact that I can't protect him from every single thing is becoming more apparent. He will become someone new, and I hope it is someone happy and free spirited and caring. I hope it is those things because my hands are tied. His experiences are his own, and I just have to pray good experiences reign supreme. In ten months, as the next summer rolls around, we will be gearing up for another opportunity to know one another again he and I. I will be amazed at who he has become. Right now, though, I am a little sad for all that will go by the wayside.