It didn't hit me until I buckled my seat belt and put my car into reverse, but when it did, it struck me deep into my heart: this is the last time. When I started to say it to my children, my voice cracked as the words became stuck in my throat. I tried to hold it in but finally let it all go as I cried, explaining that I would miss this part of our family routine.
This morning was the last time that I will ever drive my babies to school together. The last time! And I am struggling to grasp just how quickly we are being catapulted into the next phase of our life as a family.
My husband has always left for work early in the morning, just as the kids are waking up to get ready for school. This has left me for years juggling three groggy children and policing them (often like a drill sergeant) in order to get them out of the door on time for school. This has not always been a smooth routine (for years it was affectionately known as "the witching hour") and there have been many mornings when we are all running around frantically in various states of undress. I have certainly not always enjoyed this aspect of my life with my children, so I guess this is why I never anticipated how emotional I would feel for it to end.
Because I work atypical hours, I am not home for the afternoon and early evening routine of my children's lives: that is under the jurisdiction of their dad. It doesn't bother me that I miss this part of their day because I know it is affording them the opportunity to nurture relationships with their dad that they probably wouldn't if I was home. And as a byproduct, it has created the morning time as their time together with just me. During this short period of time, I get to share intimate moments with my children--over bowls of cereal, the packing of lunches, and the wait in morning car line. During this short period of time, I have witnessed my children growing into independent people. What six years ago was a routine 100% dependent on mom has grown into a routine with mom simply overseeing while I bask in the small moments of my children's lives that I will keep locked inside my heart and cherish forever.
And this routine. This routine is now over. Next year, we will embark on a new routine. The boys will get up early together and leave for their days, and the girls will follow shortly after on theirs. And even though I am excited for my son to start high school, I can't help but lament the time with him that has already passed. It will no longer be me forcing him out of bed, starting his shower, helping him gather his things. It will no longer be me quizzing him for his tests and quizzes in the car. It will no longer be me watching him walk up to school to begin his day, marveling at the man he is becoming. It will no longer be me, and there is so much about that that makes my heart ache.
I have always tried to cherish every moment, but so much about this past year has made me realize that I need to slow down and pay attention, even more, to every remaining moment that I have with my children. These precious moments, although abundant, are also fleeting. I know that I can't slow down the time, but I do know that I can look more closely. I can listen more closely. I can cherish more closely.
Goodbye, witching hour. I never thought I would say it, but I will miss you. I will miss this nuclear time with just me and my babies. I will always remember the smell of syrup on my shirt from someone's tiny mouth. I will always remember helping my babies tie their shoes. I will always remember the waves and the "I love you, mom" as my children got out of the car. I will always remember the quiet morning moments when all three of my children were hanging out together, laughing and playing games. I will always remember every precious moment of this obsolete routine and be thankful for the mothering and advice shared on our many car rides to school together. I know we will have countless new moments together but this, this morning routine, I will always cherish deep in my soul.
