Sad

If you ask me in August, if I get sad when the boys go back to school. I would tell you I do. I know I do. Even with the huge sigh of relief I feel when the hustle and bustle of summer evolves into the luxury of a regular school schedule, I get sad. I can’t help it. The beginning of the school year is another milestone that shows me my babies are growing up. So, I get sad.


And yet, even though I know I will be sad, I am always surprised at how awful it feels. Knowing how you will feel and then actually feeling it are two very different things.

I am not handling the new school year very well. This years sadness is a unique mourning. All my boys are growing up, but sending my last baby off to kindergarten has hit me awfully hard. I miss him. I miss my babies.

A few months ago, I envisioned I would spend my child-free Mondays celebrating my new found alone time with the ability to just get things done. Instead, I have spent a whole lot of Mondays crying, moping and sending sad, desperate texts to my poor husband.

This past Monday, I was at Wegmans to conquer my family’s weekly grocery shopping. I walked into the store and saw a momma with her two little boys. I felt the tears well up, slowly and surely building, until I hid myself in the paper products aisle letting loose with a good cry. A few aisles over, I ran into an acquaintance of a friend I hadn’t seen in years and there amidst the cereal boxes, I had a unique case of verbal diarrhea as I spewed my sadness onto this poor woman and told her how much I missed my Griffin. (She was probably counting her lucky stars it had been years since we last saw each other and quickly began plotting her escape from my momentary insanity.)

So, yes I am sad. A sad, sad, Mommy to three, not so little, boys. I am taking some time to adjust to all the growing up happening in our house. And crying a whole lot of tears while I figure all of it out.