Last Saturday, I had a chance to do something I've wanted to do for a long time. I've been easing into it as much as I can, starting gradually, and hoping for the best. I've looked forward to the day with glee, mixed with more than a bit of trepidation. The time finally came.
Why so nervous? Other than blades flying around at the speed of sound, and a lawn full of bumps and rocks and, at least Saturday, one of the cordless phones from inside our house (may it rest in peace)?
Kids grow up fast. Too fast sometimes. Too slow sometimes. I can't count the hours I've sat on the lawnmower, waiting for this day to come. But when it came, I felt a sense of melancholy that surprised me.
It really was an important day for me. And for them. Maybe not as important as the first day of high school or middle school (which are coming up next week!), but it marks a serious milestone in my mind.