From the moment he entered the world, Nathan was a handful—his baby days, toddler years, and even childhood were filled with challenges. But as he grows, he has evolved into a challenge that I can proudly embrace (thank goodness for small miracles!). His once-chubby legs have stretched into long limbs, and those adorable, pudgy feet now resemble those of an adult. The cherubic roundness of his face has given way to more defined features, yet his bright eyes and expressive brow still remind me of the tiny baby I cradled in my navy blue recliner many moons ago.
Last night, we tackled the prep work for his first day of middle school together. We labeled his folders, checked off supply lists, and mapped out his bus routes, all while his youngest brother lost his first baby tooth and his baby sister was on the verge of losing hers. Meanwhile, his middle brother, who seems too young to be entering fourth grade, spent his day immersed in a Lego adventure. I fought the urge to cram in one last summer escapade, and we opted for a calm day at home instead.
To say I was unprepared for this day is an understatement. The thought of having a child in middle school is nerve-wracking, filled with anticipation and a bittersweet sense of loss for the baby he once was. I can’t shake the anxiety about the changes that come with puberty, the fear that he might face difficulties like getting lost on the bus or feeling overwhelmed in the cafeteria. Most importantly, I desperately hope he finds at least one friend to share lunch with this week. Just one.
Having survived middle school myself, I am aware of the rollercoaster that lies ahead. But I also know that the landscape has shifted since my own experience three decades ago. I remember the tumult of self-doubt, the whirlwind of emotions, and the unforgettable awkwardness of P.E. locker rooms. The pain of unrequited crushes and the challenge of navigating social dynamics in the cafeteria still linger in my mind. I recall never feeling quite comfortable in my own skin.
Middle school is a significant turning point, marking the end of an innocent childhood era. I’m apprehensive about watching my little boy undergo such a transformation, bracing myself for the hurt and insecurity that may come along with it. It’s true that change is necessary, and the emotional upheaval of these tween years might bring its own kind of sweetness, but I still feel like I’m being pushed off a diving board. As I begin to feel the pull of letting go, I realize that whether I’m ready or not, the journey continues. So when I dropped him off at school this morning (after we missed the bus, of course), I offered him a high-five and a beaming smile. “This is going to be great!” I declared, trying to sound confident. Not a tear in sight!
When I picked him up at the bus stop later that day—30 minutes late, of course—his face told a different story. Gone was the excitement; instead, I saw weariness and perhaps a little deflation in his expression. “So, how was your first day?” I asked eagerly as he slumped into the car.
“Let’s just say I now understand the inspiration for Guns N’ Roses’ ‘Welcome to the Jungle,’” he replied, a witty nod to his newfound reality. Quick note: How cool is it that my son referenced G’N’R? We must be doing something right!
As it turned out, he ate lunch alone and hadn’t made any new friends yet. “Middle school is not the time to make new friends,” he told his brother with all seriousness. He described a long, cramped, and hot bus ride home and expressed surprise that his new school didn’t have a playground. It felt as if the boy I dropped off that morning had transformed; he seemed to carry the weight of a new wisdom, a reality check that came too soon. As we walked into the house, I thought he might tear up when I gave him a comforting squeeze on the shoulders. I wanted to tell him that I understood—because I wanted to cry too. I think we both managed to wipe away a tear when the other wasn’t looking.
He will be alright. He’s ready for this, and I have faith that things will improve. But I know growing up can be tough, for both kids and parents alike. I want to shield him from hurt, yet I also recognize that growing pains are a part of life. I’m caught in the middle of my own transitions, edging closer to 40 while balancing the needs of aging parents and young children. Now, my son finds himself in that same middle ground, straddling the innocence of childhood and the complexities of adolescence. Together, we can navigate this new jungle of life.
Here we go!