The Countdown

This was a big week for me. My son turned five (technically, that was last week, but we had his birthday party on the weekend which felt like the real hurdle) and had his last day at preschool on Thursday. After I dropped him off for his last day, I was full of gasping sobs in the car ride home. It all felt so big! It was one of those times when the enormity of the undertaking ahead presses down on your chest and forces you to stop and just live in the intensity of the moment. A bit of preemptory catharsis (if only that effective and absolute – the real catharsis, I predict, will be several months from now. I can hope.)

This is a bittersweet time for most parents. Witnessing change and transition in our children (and in ourselves, as we grow with our kids), is so much part of the fabric of parenthood that it sometimes it’s hard to separate out when a transition even occurred (one day I just realized “it didn’t bother me anymore!”, or one day I looked around and realized that my four year old didn’t need me to remind him to say thank you!). Our sweet, complicated kiddos, simultaneously terrifying, hilarious, observant, and deeply loving, are now equipped with a growing vocabulary and a shifting interpersonal landscape that is unique only to them. They are eager and excited to be out in the world, as long as they can still come back and hold our hand and snuggle as needed. I love this change, but its poignancy gets lost in translation. All one can do is feel the feelings and hold the experience close while also moving forward with joy.

So, that is where my heart and mind are this week. But wait – there’s more! That enormity I mentioned earlier, that feeling of preemptory catharsis – is fueled by the coming transition not only for my son’s development, but for the international move we have looming ahead of us. It has been such a frustrating journey to this point and long time coming (more explanation is needed but that will be for later), but we can with 95% confidence say the move will happen (that 5% is a calamity of epic proportions – a planet-wide alien visitation perhaps?).

Up until last week, the fact that we were planning on moving was simply a statement, there was absolutely nothing to show for it (in my experience, big decisions eventually need to be actualized with a commitment to something in physical – not always, but often). Now we have submitted applications for visas. That’s kind of as real as it gets – at least to start. I am eager to buy plane tickets so I can officially put a date on our departure – more so for planning our remaining time effectively than anything else – but that will arrive soon enough.

Back to my ugly car sob session on my son’s last day of preschool – it was not just about his big transition, but also this larger transition as a family, and the stress and fatigue it entails, that his last day of school signaled. I don’t have him enrolled in any summer day camp so he’s going to be home full time (first time since he was 8 months old!). I will be working (part-time), parenting, and preparing our home and belongings for the move. On paper (as it were), I feel like “oh, that’s not so hard!”, but the devil in the details. I’ve done several big moves before, though this will be the first time I am breaking down a whole house (in the past it’s been an apartment) that also includes a child. There’s a lot of stuff to make decisions about – and as it stands right now, that includes what we’re even doing with our house (short term vs long term renter), which then influences what we’ll do with our things. . . then there’s the prospect of having to touch and think and make a decision about all the things that makes me feel like I need put on my warpaint and bulletproof vest and head out into battle.

So my friends, that is my landscape this week. My brother-in-law, who lives in Germany, is visiting us for ten days. He arrived the day before my son ended school. To my pleasant surprise, my husband took time off work for his visit. It seems like a good way to ease into our new schedule (or rather, lack thereof) and the entrance into the liminality our summer season. Here we go!