Big Yellow Diesel Freedom

Yes, yes. Pants and I are back and had a wonderful time. I'll talk more about that later, but there is a much more pressing issue at hand.

Small Pants has begun attending the Pre-K program at Medium Pants' school. They had one class set up at the first of the year, we applied, he was screened, but didn't get his name drawn. They opened a second class a week or so ago and he got picked for that one. Agonizing decision, because I absolutely adore his preschool teachers and the director. They love my Small Pants with all their hearts and have taken such good care of him. But Medium Pants will be starting Middle school next year, and the thought of Small Pants getting on the Elementary school bus alone was stressing me out. Way out. So when the opportunity arose for him to get a year under his belt with Medium Pants keeping guard, I felt it was the best decision. Along with the fact that he will already have friends there when he starts Kindergarten next year.

He started Monday. I took him in and met his new teacher and made a big deal about his classroom, his cubby and his new X-Men backpack. We had planned on him riding the bus eventually, but I wanted to walk him in the first few days. He's only four. While he had been beside himself with excitement for the past three weeks, he suddenly got a very pinched look. He willed himself not to cry, but his face was really struggling not to crumble. For the record, so was mine.

I told him to have a good day, hugged him and left. It was a very long drive to work and I kept feeling like I was forgetting something. It may have just been deodorant, who knows. Anyway, while I know he was fine within minutes of my leaving, that look on his face was etched into my retinas for the rest of my day.

Pants picked the boys up and Small Pants was bubbling over with tales of his first day at "real school." He was even excited about the cafeteria, poor little disillusioned soul. It did make me feel better that he seemed to have a good time and I felt even better this morning when he was again excited to go to "real school." But today...... he wanted to ride the school bus. With his older brother.

I weighed the terror of watching my tiny baby climb onto that big yellow bus against the fact that I would now only have to drive straight to work and not to the daycare first........ He was going to ride it at some point in time anyway....... "OK, Bus rider you are!!" I said.

We waited this morning at the end of the driveway, along with the three other boys on our street who ride the bus too. Small Pants could not contain himself. It can only be described visually as if he were a dog on a chain. Frothing and jumping - doing the very best he could to snap that chain so that he could run and bite the mailman in the ass. He hopped and sang and danced. The bus came down the road ever so slowly and after the other boys got on, I presented my last child I will ever have to Ms. Emily, the bus driver. She smiled and said hello to him, and he sang hello to her back. He plopped down in the front seat and waved good-bye to me as insanely as if he were 19 and going to Florida for Spring Break with a pocketfull of cash and condoms. So long, Mom, see ya later - I am outta here, Lady! Dear God, I thought he was going to snap his little arm off.

I smiled (a weak attempt at one, granted) and told him to have a good day and walked back up the longest driveway in the world. Halfway up, the bus began the familiar beep beep beep signaling that it was backing up and I turned and waved at his window. It was still dark out and I could just barely make out his smiling face waving madly at me. Sadly and predictably enough, that lump in my throat grew and tears began struggling to leave my eyes.

I know it's not actually Kindergarten, but it sure as hell feels like it. And I know they have to grow up sometime, but I didn't realize it would happen so quickly. I also know that I would have been pissed if he had clung to my leg and screamed the entire time I peeled him away from me and stuck his ass in the seat. But still, it is hard. This will be my last baby, and he is no longer a baby. He has now truly joined the ranks of "The Big Boys" and shows no signs of regression.

I walked back into my home and shut the door. It all seemed foreign now - very unfamiliar, like I wasn't even in my house. Then it suddenly dawned on me what was different. For Christ's sake - I am all alone and it is quiet in here!! Woohoo! Sweet Baby Jesus, this is great! I have twenty - count 'em - 20 - whole minutes to myself before I have to leave. Alone. I can sing along to the radio at the top of my lungs, I can walk around in my undies, I can poot without shame or suffer being told it was not as good as Daddy's, I can pee with the door wide freakin' open. This is the life.

So I felt better. And now I do believe that every weekday morning, when I hear the rumbling of the Sweet Diesel of Freedom, I will say "Have a good day and I love you." And after I hear the familiar beep beep beep of the lucious gear they call "reverse," I will smile and say "Hot Damn! This is great!"