I'm silently starting to freak out. My 5th grader turns 11 years old next week. I know, 11, he's still a baby but you know what? He's not. Later this year he'll be in 6th grade. And I just keep thinking, holy shit, he's half way through the traditional schooling years. Then I start to think, holy shit, 6th grade? I *clearly* remember the things that were being talked about in 6th grade and now with the Internet being everywhere, these kids are smarter then we were.
But the thing is, they aren't smarter. They're just more savvy. Instead of asking a friend or a parent a question, they just google the answer. Hell, even I'm guilty of that. Google has made us all geniuses.
Now is when parenting gets hard. Now is when he'll start to roll his eyes at us. Now is when he'll claim to hate us. It's already happening because he has a set bed time which he thinks is too early (9pm on school nights) and because we won't let him watch The Walking Dead. In the grand scheme of things this is stupid stuff but to him, it's the "end" of his world.
I feel like I'm watching a reality show on fast forward all the time. It seems like just yesterday he was an infant and I was juggling my job, our daycare issues, on-going house renovations, and a husband working nights. It feels like this all happened last week!
At first, his birthdays were fun. Another milestone reached. Another baby-toddler-preschool-ism conquered. But now the birthdays are making me sad, like we're on some sort of countdown until he moves out. I swear, it's the biggest catch 22 ever. I suppose it doesn't help that he's the oldest grandchild on both sides of our family so he will literally be the first to leave the coop. Heaven, help me. I may need sedation.