When I stringbain was born almost 12 years ago, I never thought about this day. I remember his first day of practice so clearly it's hard to believe it was over 8 years ago. The highway of motherhood was wide open; I had my windows down, loving the feeling of this ride.
The ride is shorter than I planned, apparently.
It seemed like I would always be a mama of small children. Parents of 1 or 2 kids don't understand that it's easy to become habituated to being the object of A LOT of dependency. The Baby Thing became second nature. The pipeline of children was loaded, full and seemingly endless. After a while I thought would always be potty training somebody before the next baby was born. I would always have circles under my eyes from keeping the mom-of-toddlers-and-baby schedule. I would always have this (fill-in-the-blank) experience to "do over" with the next boy. I would always have somebody asking me to play legos, race cars or army men. These weren't conscious thoughts, but I know I had them. Now my thoughts tend toward the "Not yet! Where did this week go? I can't believe how tall he is..."
It's every mom's dilemma. I want them to hurry and grow up, but not TOO fast. So, at butterbain's first day of soccer practice I didn't get teary. I did realize the import of the occasion. I did recognize he's not college bound, yet. I did realize how little he still is, dressed in all his soccer garb he was wearing a mickey mouse shirt. I did realize it's now or never. I did enjoy the moment. I did take pictures.
Then I participated in my last first day of practice.