My babies finished the first grade today. The precious little short people that I still see as tiny little bundles resting in my arms walked across that big old stage and collected their certificates for making All A's. Those first long, long nights when they were eating every two hours seemed to last forever. Our lives were thrown into a blender and seemed to come out moving at a snail's pace. Each and every day my only goal was to keep everyone alive until tomorrow. For some reason I decided that, for the first eight weeks of their lives, if I closed my eyes to sleep one of them would surely stop breathing. The first month seemed like one long, sleepless day. I kept telling myself it will get better, it will get better, it has to get better. And then I closed my eyes, and today happened.
My babies are no longer babies. They are officially second graders. Even scarier than that is the fact that we are putting them in different classes next year. One of them is all for it, the other is not so sure. My objective is to allow them to develop their own identities and friendships. While I am so, so glad that they have each other to walk through this life with, I understand that it gets old to always be seen as part of a set. I want the world to see them as the fantastic, unique individuals they are instead of calling them the wrong name half the time. I can't help but think this has the potential to be the best thing we ever did or a colossal failure. Life is about taking chances, right?
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