Buckle Up

Today was Kendra’s first day of school back after summer vacation. It was her last first, and the first of many lasts that will be ticked off over the next 180 days.

Today was the first day of Kendra’s senior year in high school.

She came to me at 6am to tell me she was leaving at 6:30am to meet up with her friends so that they could get a “good parking space.” If I had known that getting good parking was motivation enough to get her to leave the house fifty minutes earlier than I dragged her out of the house last year, I would have pushed her harder to get her learner’s permit and license.

In 2014, Jakob decided he wanted to transfer out of Tantasqua Regional High School and attend Worcester Academy, a private school in Worcester, MA. He reclassed to get all four years of high school on one transcript and assure that he completed important foundational classes that WA required of all freshmen. We literally bought ourselves another year with Jakob.

Kendra was sixteen in January 2022 and if she had completed all requirements on a strict timeline, she could have earned her license in July 2022. Therefore, she could have driven herself to school for her entire junior year. For some reason, Kendra showed no serious interest in getting her permit. She took the test once, and like many teenagers, she didn’t pass it the first time. She would put off re-applying and re-taking the test for over a year. She never seemed unhappy about not having her license when many of her friends were driving into the lane of independence around her.

When Kendra was four years old, Ed used a bunch of his American Express points to buy her a navy blue, battery-operated Jeep. She mastered driving that Jeep in the vein of Vin Diesel in any one of the Fast and Furious movies. She circled the cul-de-sac in front of our old house, doing her best to keep up with her brother and sister and some of the neighborhood kids who were on bikes. The day I saw her slam on the brakes and let the Jeep fishtail to a stop, before slamming it into reverse, I knew that she was going to command being behind the wheel of a real car. Even as a tiny preschooler, she was confident in her skills. She looked over shoulder and turned the wheel of the Jeep, put it back in forward and resumed her chase. Kendra could drive!

As a baby and toddler, I carried Kendra around the house a lot, and held her on my hip every day at the bus stop when Jakob and Miranda headed off to elementary school and then came home in the afternoon. I like to believe that Kendra purposely procrastinated herself into another year of being carted around. There was no rush to gain too much independence. She would be ready when she was ready.

I have often tried not to look in the rearview mirror of my life and be sad about the world I have left behind. I was all too eager to leave diapers and tiny baby food jars on the side of the road. Through most of my children’s development I was perfectly satisfied to move on to the next stage. When Jakob got his license, I was ecstatic. I didn’t see my little boy driving away from me down the road. I saw a responsible driver who could pick his sisters up from practice and run to MickNuck’s for a last-minute dinner ingredient. So, I am trying to look at Kendra’s senior year as something other than, “How did I get here?!”

Rather, it is the Surreal Senior Year!

My baby girl is a baby no more. I am proud and overjoyed at the amazingly smart, and beautiful young lady she is today.

I may no longer be driving Miss Daisy, because now she’s driving, and not making me crazy.

She is growing and going…going to school, going places, and going towards her goals.

It will assuredly kill me a little bit each day with each Last that senior year has to offer. She is my youngest and represents the onset of the empty nest, regardless of whether her older siblings are still at home. With that comes sadness. I may not languish in the loss of my children’s childhoods, but I am also not devoid of feelings and deep connections with them, either. This year, I hope that I can keep my reflection and bittersweet joy for this phase in her life contained at a level that doesn’t make her feel bad for the steps she’s taking to move on and away.

This senior year, Kendra will be killing it!