Thoughts on parenthood as my son leaves elementary school

Parents face a lot of anxiety--especially in the early years of their parenthood. They wake up in the middle of the night, wondering if their babies are okay, they follow their diapered crawlers everywhere to ensure they come to no harm, they lock cabinets and close off stairways. Once places of comfort, homes are harsh wildernesses of sharp things, precipitous stairs and balconies, monstrous boulders precariously leaning.

Some measure of relief arrives with each stage of growth and maturity their children attain. When children can put spoons to their own lips or stuff handfuls of Cheerios into their mouths, it's a small relief not to have to feed them. When they can walk on their own, it's a relief to no longer have to bear the burden of carrying them, propping them on one hip while trying to perform other necessary work. It's an exhilarating breeze when diapers are no longer needed.

And when they can form complete sentences and make their needs and wants understood, a whole new world opens up. Soon they can clothe themselves and use a pencil, holding it correctly between forefinger, middle finger and thumb.

New anxieties arrive when children are scooted off to school. But it's also a time when many more doors of independence are opened.

Little by little, parents find themselves recapturing some semblance of the lives they led before these mounds of responsibilities were heaped upon them. They can go back to enjoying nights out with friends or quiet dinners just to themselves. They can watch TV alone without having to worry about little ones being in danger. They don't feel the need to spend every waking moment considering the dangers around every corner.

You can relax.

Sure, there are still responsibilities. Clothes to be washed, perhaps lunches to pack, trips to the bus stop. It's all a matter of routine by now.

But before you know it, your little baby is leaving elementary school and headed off to middle school and, sooner than you think, high school. And you find yourself wondering, where did that stumbling little guy in the diaper go?

What happened to all those late nights sitting up in the rocker? The tiny, grasping fingers so anxious to explore? The wide-stretched smile that laughed at funny faces and funnier noises? Peekaboo and hide-n-go-seek? What happened to the toys, the Legos, the action figures, the crayons? What happened to raspberries and feet tickling? And baby talk?

What happened to the walks through the neighborhood with a passenger perched on your shoulders?

What happened to coloring inside the lines and outside the lines? What happened to believing in elves and Santa Claus?

Where did the blanket fort go and late nights sleeping on a mattress on the floor?

Where did that little dome-roofed car go? The tricycle? The Big Wheel?

What happened to training wheels and tiny mittens? What happened to reading bedtime stories and making stuffed animals talk?

You wonder, who is this guy wearing the suit jacket and tie?

It is good to freeze every moment in your mind, to soak it in and fill yourself with it. With a blink of the eyes, you find yourself waking, wondering where the reverie drifted away.