Don't Miss the Bus!

I don't know why I was overcome with emotion as I watched Jack climb onto his school bus this morning.  Maybe it was just the undeniable truth that he is getting to be such a big kid, that time won't slow down for my heart to catch up, and when I see him so independent, I am reminded of how he won't always need me.  He didn't look back and wave.  He didn't hesitate.  The second he saw the bus pull up, he threw open the van door, gave me a quick kiss goodbye, launched himself out, and walked briskly, anxiously to it, always wearing the same concerned expression upon his face, for worry the bus may leave without him.

A few weeks ago, I flew out of the driveway and got to our stop just as the bus was leaving.  All my honking like a mad woman didn't stand a chance to the sound of heaters and roaring of the bus engine.  I tailed the bus to the next stop, Jack freaking out instantly at the idea of getting on somewhere other than his normal spot.  He wanted me to take him to school instead.  He cried and yelled at me over and over, "I AM NOT GETTING ON AT THE NEXT STOP!"  There was no convincing him...so I just got out of the driver's seat in my pajama pants and slippers and literally dragged him to the bus door as he flopped and flailed about like a fish out of water, his tears flowing, red-faced and screaming words of hatred and anger.  All the while I said things like, "do you want your friends to see you crying like this?  To see you acting like such a baby?  Aren't you embarrassed of how this looks right now?"  My heart was pounding; I was filled with fury as I strained to carry him.  He is one heavy, strong little dude.  As quickly as his tantrum started, it stopped once I deposited him at the bus door.  He wiped his eyes and climbed on; he didn't look back.  As I marched back to my van, I muttered a comment about having a rough morning.  One dad nodded in acknowledgement and another said the standard "we've all been there" phrase.  I felt like crap all day after that.

That afternoon, Jack was his normal happy, energetic self. We talked a bit, but I think he was pretty much over the morning.  I gathered he was not embarrassed by his fit, as if he didn't even think anyone saw it; he was just embarrassed he had missed the bus in the first place, and by getting on at a different stop, everyone would know that.  Strangely, this made sense to me, knowing Jack the way I do.  Out in the world, he is a rule follower, Mr. Responsible, well-mannered and polite, despite his often disrespectful display of behavior at home.  My heart ached a bit for not realizing this that morning, and I thought of other ways I could have handled it or things I should have said to ease his mind.

I am not a perfect mother.  I replay scenes like that one over and over in my head on a daily basis. Our family is what Brett and I call "emotionally charged."  We all yell more than we should.  We are reactive at times when perhaps we should be self-reflective.  Our kids throw tantrums, and truth be told, as parents, we do too.  I'm not ashamed to admit I need timeouts and forgiveness when I have a Mommy meltdown, but I am sometimes sad that my kids have inherited a double dose of this trait from their father and me.  Still, the passion with which we fight, is the same passion with which we love...and the love always wins.

When Jack gets home today, I want to scoop him up into my arms and smother him with kisses!  It is Monday, my "day off," the only day of the week I get to be the lucky one who gets him from the bus stop.  When I see him bounce off the bus and run toward me, my heart jumps for joy inside my chest, and I feel this wave of relief rush over me, knowing he loves me, he is excited to see me, and that he always forgives me.  I realize it may not always be like this.  The day will come when he won't need a parent at the bus stop anymore, when he will do his homework by himself, when he won't knock me down with his hugs b/c the hugs will be fewer and less emphatic.  I know that he will always love me, but he may not always wrap his arms and legs around me and squeeze my face and say it the same way he does now.  I know his nights of needing cuddles will come to an end, and our bus stop mornings will turn to friends honking from the street and him driving himself to school.

So I don't want to miss the bus.  And maybe that is what came over me this morning, thinking about how precious this time is, how there won't be another stop where I can get on if the bus of his life leaves without me!  I know my boy is growing up.  We are often late and chronically rushing to get where we need to be, but time won't slow down just so I can preserve these days.  I have to live them fully present and on time.  I have to be there every morning of his journey, and the bus won't wait for me if I'm not!  I could try to chase it, but I would never be able to catch up.  Time waits for no one.  

So I'm not going to miss that bus...that's a promise, Jack.