Parenting : My Baby Isn’t A Baby Anymore

March 2020 is a big month for my eldest son. Last week he found out he’d been accepted into his chosen high school which ended a long and anxious wait for us all. In two weeks time he will turn 11. A tween. An age where he’s not quite a teenager but also no longer a young child.

And yet it was neither of these things that really hit home that my baby isn’t a baby any more. That moment happened tonight.

Tomorrow he heads off to his school residential. It’s a rite of passage for Year Sixers; a two night trip away with his school friends and teachers where they take part in various activities. I’ve known it’s been coming, of course. I’ve been paid the fee, bought the essentials and packed his little case. It’s only tonight it’s hit me. I’m going to come home from work tomorrow and, for the first time ever, my eldest baby isn’t going to be there.

It’s further evidence that the years have flown by in the blink of an eye. I remember my primary school residential well. How can it be that my own child is now attending his?!

It’s a tricky age where we’re trying to balance his need for independence with our need to keep him safe. We’re bumbling our way through it as parents. Not quite knowing what we should do for the best, knowing all too well that times have changed since we were young. Every rule and every curfew seems to be met with an eye roll and a sigh. But at least we know he’s safe. When I hear the click of the door when he returns home before it’s dark, I feel I can relax. He’s home and he’s safe.

On the car journey from school today I asked him whether he was excited. He eagerly replied that he was but after a small silence he admitted “I’m a bit nervous”. He’s never been away from us for more than a night so his nerves are probably to be expected. I acknowledged his feelings, reassured him he’ll have a great time and encouraged him to really enjoy himself, while silently adding “I’m nervous too.”

I know his teachers and leaders will be there to keep him safe. I know that. And yet…I won’t be. That’s the hardest part in watching my first born grow up. I can’t be there with him all the time. He wants to play at the park with his friends. He wants to visit his friend’s house after school. It’s only natural. He needs these small steps towards independence. But it’s hard to let go.

I know he’ll have a great time at his residential. I know he’ll be safe and looked after well. But that won’t stop me worrying. What if he has a bad day and has no-one to talk to? What if he’s feeling overwhelmed? What if he has an argument with a friend?

I know with high school on the horizon he needs to learn to resolve these conflicts. I can’t be there to fight all his battles. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. And for the next few days I’ll feel like a piece of me is missing until he’s home and he’s safe.

Roll on Friday….