Remember not so long ago I was harping on about Thomas starting nursery and not feeling ready for that stage?
Well I really need to clarify, it wasn't the thought of him being gone 12.5 hours a week (I was excited about that for both of us I assure you) that pulled on my heart strings it was the fact that he is getting bigger and more independent all the time and I just simply can't keep up.
For goodness sake he was just born and he is already 3 and next time I blink he'll no doubt be fully grown and leaving home (see how I completely bypassed the teenage years there? Yep, I am in denial and we're 9 years away). Time betrays me every day by going too quickly.
Two weeks in he adores Nursery School but every day I collect him he seems just a little bit smarter and a tiny bit bigger. I have to admit though the last two weeks I have revelled in the wisdom of my decision making skills by choosing to send him in the afternoons. We have happily idled away our mornings waking at 8:30, breakfasting at leisure and dressing sometime before noon. It has also been lovely to have quality time with Eli every single day.
I have been feeling like life is pretty much perfect.
Then on Thursday I got the most terrific phone message ever. It was Thomas's old playgroup calling to say that they had Eli on their waiting list to start in January (the next term after he turns 2.5) but because they're familiar with him and he is used to the environment would I like to start him a little bit earlier, like on Monday????
YES I REALLY REALLY WOULD!!
I was so excited by the prospect I had to listen to the message 4 times to get her number to call her back. I returned her call and made sure she knew that he wasn't potty trained (and I have no intentions of attempting him being so) and that he wasn't 2.5 yet. She knew both things and they were still happy to take him. Hooray!
So on Monday and Wednesday he will be attending playgroup. I am thrilled for him and even more so for myself.
Back when I made the slothful decision to send Thomas in the afternoons I knew when Eli started playgroup in January he would be going in the mornings.
You know what that means? It means I could have had 6 beautiful hours to myself, every single week. But in some obvious attempt to win some Mother of the year contest I actually decided to put the kids before myself (could I be more motherly?) and have them go at alternate times so I could have quality time with one while the other was busy at school/playgroup. That has to be award worthy, seriously.
I was elated at the prospect of him being a big boy and attending playgroup right up until I climbed into bed on Thursday night. I lay there waiting for sleep to come and my head filled with thoughts.
What if it turns out like that time I helped out and took Eli along?
What if he bites someone? (Always a possibility where Eli is concerned.)
What if he is just too young?
What if creates poop art there?
What if they discover his double butt and think he's a bit odd?
Eli is my baby. He may well be 2 and 4 months but he is my baby.
He is our youngest and he is starting playgroup and becoming independent.
I had my babies close together and every day felt 47 hours long and it felt like they would be babies forever. But now neither of them are babies.
I felt sad.
I knew the day was coming but January seemed so far away and so much more manageable.
Think of me because tomorrow (slightly reluctantly) I become the mother of two big boys.