Guest Blogger, Sonja, writes about the emotions of kids growing up as her final two head off to Kindergarten this week

So, it all started this past June, when my oldest, at the ripe age of 8, went off to 2 weeks of sleep away camp.  Wise hubby and I felt as if a limb had been forcibly removed and we ached for the full 14 days of her experience, yearning for a one lined e-mail or letter to tell us she’d made friends, managed the thunderstorms and her significant allergies weren’t landing her in the health lodge regularly.

Instead, in response to daily e-mails and a barrage of snail mail from us, we got 3 cryptic notes that we thought were ghost-written by a Kindergarten graduate and an 8 a.m. call from the health lodge announcing she had an infection and would be seen by a doctor, but was in fine spirits and was not available to speak with us.  Wise friends told us this was a sign she was happy and well and embracing the growth and independence the camp experience provides…don’t worry, be happy.

During the long car ride back from camp where she detailed her adventures, I asked if she ever missed us.  She paused, looked at me sheepishly and said, I can’t think of a time when I ever did.  Alrighty then!  I pursued, but what about in your tent (yes, she slept in raised platform tents) when the thunderstorms came (she has an illogical deep fear of thunder and I thought surely she needed us then)?  Mom, we never had any while I was there (aha, untrue, I checked the radar weather in her zip code every night and they actually had 2 severe storms).  I suppose you were too tired to wake up from them I said and I’m glad they didn’t bother you (lie).

Upon her return, we noticed other maturities, many of which we liked; looking adults in the eye and holding full conversations with them, helping her younger brother and sister, and doing things without being asked.  However, one change was killing me…I was no longer Mommy, I was Mom.  Ouch.

So, pile on the motherhood pain, my 5 year-old twins start Kindergarten this week.  I have no more children at home.  No toddlers to feed, no play dates to attend, no pre-school mommy friends for me, nobody who needs me all day (this from their mother who works 3-4 days a week and shouldn’t feel so empty).  I’d already bought myself an extra year of their being home most of the week by delaying their Kindergarten entry a year, as our son wasn’t quite ready to meet the challenges of the academic pressure cooker they refer to as Kindergarten now.  So, technically, they could be going to first grade in the great state of Connecticut that’s deemed anyone who is 5 by December 31^st is welcome to class.

Yet, turning 6 at the end of this year, does nothing to subdue the hollow pit in my stomach that twitches when I think of them going to school with 800+ students, on a yellow bus – alone for 6 ½ hours a day, without me to help zip their pants, wipe their mouths and tell them to stop fighting (did I mention our great state also requires multiples be in separate classes, thereby reducing any need for my interfering in a fight).  Alas, I’ve spent the last few weeks, smooching them like crazy and continually telling them I can’t believe they are going to “big” school.  My son has often volunteered to stay home with me and keep me company (he’s a rather co-dependent, sensitive child).  He told me he really doesn’t need to go to this school and he can learn it all at home (there’s an idea – home schooling, which would last a week on my part).  On the other hand, my 5 year old daughter, has mused about every possible friend she’ll make and picked out a book to lend the teacher that she could read on the first day of school (there may be some debate about who runs her classroom).

So, what to do with that pit in my stomach…I tried to convince wise hubby that even numbers of children are best, less fighting, and wouldn’t it be nice to balance the family with another little boy.  I had the “we’re too old to conceive another” argument at the ready.  We’d simply adopt a young boy who needed a loving home that we could provide.  I attempted to appeal to his Christian sense of values in that we’d help another life – no deal.  All I got back was that I could happily have another child, biologically or not, but I’d need to find a new husband first.  Alrighty then.

So, out of options, here I sit.  A mere 36 hours from the start of Kindergarten.  My babies will leave the nest.  In my heart they are ready, it’s me that’s not.  I hope their new adventures will fill my heart with joy as I watch them grow and tackle these challenges.  Tonight, as I put my oldest to bed, and began to leave the room she said, “Oh Mommy, I love you TOO much”.  I love you TOO much too sweetie.  I guess, I’ll always be Mommy, no matter if they are at camp or in Kindergarten and I need to make sure these are the images that fill my heart as I struggle with their growing up.