Today, I am not photographer, but a mom. A mom who wants to record, to remember the anticipation, the laughter, and the tears of the first day of school. I am a mom who forgot how to run my camera, or tone down the off camera flash because the photos are for me, my memories. They are for my kids who will ask about this day, years from now when it is just a faded memory. The photos match the morning, the first of many, as we rushed to get to school and work on time. Cereal spilled all over the floor, tears of pain, tears of sorrow as the first day of school shorts were soiled. Despite the things getting in our way, we made it on time and they ran to the door.
Remembering that Moms with big cameras and even bigger flashes are embarrassing, I put it behind my back as I said “Good bye, have a wonderful day, McCartney,” to my big second grader. There were no hugs, or kisses for Mom, because that is lame, Moms are embarrassing, and friends are more fun already. It seems like yesterday, he wouldn’t let go of my hand and now that love and emotion is for our house, and not for school. Growing pains aren’t just about the kids.
I walk to my big girl, who is now a Kindergartener, already sitting and joking with friends. She is so happy to be at school, and is ready to socialize. I see kids crying, parents holding back tears, hugs and emotion. Today, that is not me, my daughter is ready to go. All morning, I beg her to wait for me, but she is ready to go and do it alone. Growing pains aren’t just about the kids.
As I stand there, waiting to be told I can leave, I capture. I photograph so I don’t embarrass my kids with tears. Instead, I become an obnoxious Momtographer to keep my emotions in check. I don’t care if I am the only who has a big, clunky camera. Years from now the only people in the room I will know are my kids, and so I really don’t care what others think. Besides, my make up is done, and who wants raccoon eyes on the first day of school? Moms with make up running down their cheeks are embarrassing. I need to remember that school is a wonderful place for the energetic, non-sleepers, and I don’t want to cry.
Instead, I capture, and when it is time to go, I say, “Ana, I hope you love kindergarten. Have a wonderful first day. I can’t wait to hear all about it at noon. I love you.” I walk out of the door, emotions in check, and hop in my van. Once I enter our front door, the house feels big and empty. The mess can wait because I have some tears that need to escape. Growing pains aren’t just about the kids.
In a few hours, the house will be loud and crazy again, as the kids race to tell me all about second grade and kindergarten. It will be loud again, so the tears are gone, coffee is made, and I am reveling in the quiet. This is the moment, it’s time to enjoy, and let them go. We survived the first morning of many, and I think we did it well.
Linking up today with: