Tracey Marley

Technically this title is true every morning I wake up, but it’s truth holds particular significance for today. Like that first labor pain—the one you dread, but wonder if it will ever come—this morning I woke up, got dressed, fed my children, drove them 4 miles down the road, walked them down a long hall, helped them put away their things, passed out kisses, and then watched my baby start his first day of school.

In an instant Avery became a boy: smart, active and on the go. I’m pretty sure he came out of the womb talking. After all, the doctor’s first words were, “This boy is ready for school!” (No joke. He really said that. Avery weighed 9+ pounds.) Twenty-five pounds later, my baby no longer needs Mommy to dress him, tell him when to go potty, open the door for him or feed him. That’s big boy stuff.

That means today there will be no mid-day fort building in the middle of the living room floor, no slamming of the back door followed by an announcement that the dog has run away, nor a request for corn dogs and chocolate milk that can be eaten in an imaginary camper. We will not host a scavenger hunt for our shoes so that we can go and pick up Anna. There will be no fire trucks under the dining room table, just Mommy and me. No Legos to pick up before I vacuum. Today, even the cat will get to finish his nap uninterrupted. Yes, even Chester is confused by the silence that has descended upon our house.

Thank God for whoever had the foresight to make the first day of school a short day!

Ah, change.

Bittersweet are the memories that come as we cross from one stage of life into another. One day leads to the next, and suddenly you wake up one morning realizing you have lived out one of the most precious and treasured seasons of life. Am I holding on too tight? Or not tight enough? Maybe a little of both. I am so thankful I got to spent these years at home with my children. A blessing indescribable—one I would not trade for any amount of money or career.

If there’s but one thing I’ve learned through parenting thus far, it’s that just as those labor pains I remember growing, intensifying, and then disappearing altogether, I know—with the help of Christ—that I, too, will adjust, embrace this new change, and grow with my children from here. Today’s pains and uncertainties will pass and become tomorrow’s encouragement and strengths. I know this will happen because it’s the way God is raising me….still.