Bittersweet. My sister-in law, the wordsmith, nailed it. This morning I sent her, along with 200 of my closest friends, a picture of my baby walking down the street to catch the yellow school bus, for the last time. Baby, may be a stretch, seeing that he’s 5.9 inches tall and 147 pounds but he’ll always be my baby.
I’ve watched him walk down the street since kindergarten, first with me holding his hand, and years later watching from the lawn because he refused to let me accompany him.
Next year, he’ll take the train to high school. This is the end of an era. Cue the violins.
The sentimentally bug hit me hard. My neck has its signature red blotchy rash that comes out when I’m subjected to extreme emotion. Mind you, the rash appears when I’m nervous, mad, sad, in the throes of passion, struck by a lingering hot flash or viewing a cute panda video. Being an Italian Girl, I should probably wear turtle necks year round to hide the tell-tale rash.
But as with most Italians, we believe in letting our emotions out. Venting is very curative, even cathartic, sort of like confession, if you go for that sort of thing. Why bottle it up like the Big Irishman, hubby, ball & chain and light of my life? That only eats away at his stomach and it still makes him red in the face.
Early this morning, I was blathering away at the kitchen sink about it being the last day of grammar school. After I said for the umpteenth time, Can you believe that our Baby is graduating tomorrow, he spied the rash, gave me a quick peck on the cheek, which is a major show of support for the Big Irishman, and ducked out the door. Wise man. He knows I’ll still be kvetching about this later. I’ll probably share my emotions with everyone that crosses my path. But I’m not alone.
Last week, I ran into a friend at the grocery store. Our boys have been in school together since kindergarten. This woman is an actress, a lawyer, and Italian. She makes me look absolutely Irish in comparison.
Can you believe it!! She gestured dramatically in the air.
I had no idea what she was taking about. I glanced at the display shelf advertising two for one organic ketchup and gamely grabbed two bottles.
Two bottles for four bucks. My kind of deal. I exclaimed.
She shook her head, her eyes welling up. Our babies are graduating! Next week!
That’s when the infection started. As with most bugs, they can take a few days to kick in.
My next mistake was reading all the, get- your- hankies- ready for graduation, Facebook posts.
Last night after I dropped my baby off at the school dance, I cranked up the radio and started crying along to, Forever Young. http://tinyurl.com/gwstjbu
Such a wonderful time, but oh so Bittersweet.