Lasts and Firsts

Today was the last day of preschool for my last baby.

It was hard not to cry as we were driving away.  Though, I was headed to get gas - I'm quite sure people would've totally taken my tears for having to fill up a Suburban.

I told him he's getting too big.  He said, "I'm still five", like - duh, Mom.  I'm not that big, yet.

He and my other youngest son are watching a movie, right now - Gnomeo and Juliet.  I love that movie.  As a song started playing in the background, I was brought back to the days when I could only watch certain shows without having a smallish breakdown.  I truly hated postpartum depression.  Still do.  Even though this movie was one of the few that didn't bring me to tears in a bad way, it still brought back memories of having a fragile psyche.  But, I digress...

First smile.  First giggles.  First steps.  First time on the potty.  First time riding without training wheels.  First day of preschool...

Of all the lasts I've had with my kids, I have had a lot of firsts.

First time they told me they loved me.  First time they told me they hated me.  First time they talked to a friend on the phone.  First time they went to a friend's house.  First day of school.  First time they tied their own shoes.  First time they showered by themselves.  First time they did their own laundry.

And I get to embark on all of those firsts, again, with my last.

My last.  I've had a very strong feeling that I need to hold on to this one as long as he'll let me.  I've had this feeling since I was pregnant with him.  For most of his life, I had a sinking feeling that this was because I wouldn't have him for very long.  (I've had several heart attacks over the past five years.  I'm glad he's my most cautious child.)  I haven't actually told many people that.  I don't know what the future holds, but I do know this:  I've been given a gift in this urging.  I've held onto every moment I can.  I've held him any time he would let me.  I wish wish wish I would've held him more, as a baby.  I hate hate hate that I didn't even want him awake most of the time.  I'm quite certain I experienced part of what Hell is.

This will be the last summer before he enters the real world of school.  There will be friends and homework and bad influences, a plenty.  I'm excited to see how his personality develops.  It shall be an adventure, that's for sure.  This boy's all confidence and has no qualms about talking to pretty much anyone.

I'm grateful for all of the lasts, because that only means there once was a first.  I'm glad it won't be my last "last".

He's having his "moving up" from pre-K to K party, in two days.  I'm bringing tissues.