Today is the day that my gorgeous, blue eyed, blonde haired, laid back, go-with-the-flow baby boy should be turning five. This is a day that should mark a turning point in our lives as we begin to prepare for entering the realm of chaos brought on by parenting a school age child. Come August my firstborn should be marching off to Kindergarten. How is it possible that so much time has passed since I held him in my arms for the first time? How is it possible that so much time has passed since I held him in my arms for the last time? There are moments when I allow myself to contemplate what should have been. My heart literally, physically aches when those thoughts come to a screeching halt and reality comes crashing down on me as I realize all over again that I no longer know my own child. Three years, five months, and thirteen days later I do not know what my son would look like. I would no longer recognize the sound of his voice. I do not know what bedtime story book he would choose, what his favorite food would be, or what size shoes he would need. Even though this is the fifth anniversary of my son’s birth, I do not know what it is like to parent a five year old.
