Published on July 22nd, 2019 | by voxx0
I’m not an emotional parent. I’m not even an emotional person. I don’t even cry at sad movies. This is what I insist to the four walls (which listen intently), as I sob into my cup of coffee – black with a hint of tears, as I wonder how to pull my pathetic self together.
I have just dropped Diego off at playgroup for the final time. He starts school in September and just like the first day he started playgroup I’m emotional. Well, emotional doesn’t even cut it. I’m a wreck, an embarrassment. I’m heartbroken – and I think I have something in my eye.
I have trusted playgroup and relied on them to keep Diego safe, to wipe his tears and soothe his grazed knees for so long. We have to start that journey again when he starts school. I’m terrified and I hate change, I hate that I won’t see his teachers anymore and most of all I hate that I have no excuse to ‘baby’ my son; he’s becoming a boy. How do I even handle that? (Clearly, I can’t).
I love the joy of watching Diego growing up. At the moment he wants to be a firefighter on rescue missions. He can count to twenty and he loves cuddles and kisses. However, the last five years have gone so quickly and I feel like I need to pause time so I can just get my head around it. How am I going to fill the hole in my heart while I’m missing him?
I’m not an emotional person, I remind myself as I cuddle a stupid teddy and rock back and forth on the living room floor; it’s just the chopped onion in my salad. Plus, I’m just certain that I have something in my eye.
- By Boneata Bell