First day Blues

The first day of school has come and gone. Gabe seems to be adjusting to school quite well but his mom (me) not so much. He gets up each morning with the anticipation of putting on new clothes and dresses himself happily. I stand in the doorway and start my daily 20 questions." Gabe did you find clean socks, Gabe did you make your bed?, Gabe where are your sneakers?, Gabe what do you want for breakfast? I ask all these questions not for his benefit as much as for my sanity. I fear every morning that I will forget to make him breakfast and he will go to school with a rumbly tummy or I forget to ask about socks and he has to sit out in gym class because the teacher doesn't want 15 second graders with smelly sock less feet trotting around the gym.i have to commend him, he is very patient with me throughout the first five questions and then responses start getting longer and slower. It starts out as " yes mommy I did", and it turns into " yeeees moooom!!!!"It's ok because he still bounces happily to the bustop and faithfully wait for his bus.And there is mom standing in the doorway to the garage looking as if I was in a bar fight with a Brillo pad and wiping the baby drool off of several parts of my bed worn shirt. Pretty isn't it. Although I have my two little ones to keep my company during the day I miss the half hearted {on Gabe's part} conversation that I would have every day with my little guy. Most of the time the conversation was a combination of Gabe jumping around playing the xbox and inviting me stare at the screen with him as he changed all the characters on dragon ball Z, to stories about playground chatter between him and his best friend and ended with,"Mom {jump} can you {jump} get me a drink? Because {jump} I am really thirsty, thanks mom!" I 'll take the crazy rantings about game playing and spiderman toys if it means that I can talk to not quite and adult but thinks he is at times man child. Sweet child of Mine. I am tempted every morning to get teary eyed as he makes his way up the bus steps and slings his bag into the seat , while consciously ignoring my cries of love from the garage door. He doesn't need me everyday for 7 hours a day everyday, everyday,everyday. But he will need me when he descends from that bus everyday, everyday,everyday. I am still his mom.