It’s been one week…ok three weeks…

I saw the Barenaked Ladies in a small concert last week for a conference I was attending.  I realized as they sang “One Week” how I had forgotten to update my blog on how the BIG good-bye went.  (I realize I have little to no readers on this thing, but I am certainly entertained by reading my old posts.  Online diary of sorts.)

Anyway, it went amazingly well.  The ‘bear’ returned on schedule and actually was more of a ‘teddy’ bear that week.  A lot of sentimental moments with his sister–dancing to “Watch me whip…” spontaneously in our dining room was my personal highlight.

The night before we left, I made him one of his favorite dinners–roast turkey with mashed potatoes/gravy.  We kept joking it was the night before his execution.  “Your last meal son…”

That night we got the car packed and the bean bag chair strapped to the roof wrapped in large garbage bag–we affectionately referred to it as the giant ‘burrito’ the next day (it cost us about 6 mpg on the way there)–then his buddies and the girls all came over for one last bonfire.  It was HIS night, not ours.  He gave us dinner and a few hours with him, but then, it was about him.  It was sweet seeing them all sit there and laughing.  Their lives were all about to change and they were supporting each other as each one left.

The drive down was a typical family car ride–the kids buried in their devices for the most part, then they would get restless and ridiculously silly.  At one point, I could NOT wait to get there, they were so annoying.

Then it hit.

We saw our first metro-Milwaukee sign, the kids were goofing around and suddenly got silent.  I glanced back to see them, heads together with tears streaming down their faces.  I quickly turned back, put my sunglasses on and tried desperately to think about…ANYTHING.  I never expected to see THAT.  Within five minutes it was over, and they went back to their respective electronics.

After the move-in, we headed to the hotel.  (more on the setting up a loft bed at another time…holy…) We came back the next morning with a television and DVD player for the room and then said our good-byes.

It hit again.

The final hug was had and I quickly left the building with my sunglasses on again. The weird thing was, even though I was upset and sad–it felt right.  A few days later, I read a blog by Ann Handley about taking her daughter to college and she put it perfectly, “Somehow this felt ok. It felt right.” and I completely related to it.  After 18 years. It was ok.

Now, three weeks later, we are keeping in touch via text and a few calls.  Conversations are typically short in nature, usually because he needs help with something or needs to share something quick.  The random text messages make my day.  Just weird things like he did in high school, about how a professor sounds like an actor, etc.  I know he’s having fun, and also completely stressing out about his courses–all good things.

I don’t pine over the fact he’s not at home.  I miss the singing, the random impersonations, and I miss our talks. I worry about him: I’m worried he’s too intense, but I’m worried if he lets up, he’ll slack. (Yeah, there is no in-between with this kid) Normal things. I don’t focus on his absence as much as I thought I would.  I have his sister to manage, my job, his father.  I’m getting through.

I realized a week ago that this was the first time I had been away from him for over a week, ever.  Like, since conception.

Yep, it hit again.

But once again, I’ll get through.

It’s the final countdown

A week from tomorrow it happens.

He moves away to college.

Today was the trial run as we took him to the airport for a trip to see his grandparents for a few days. It was his request after working all summer.  A few days with his grandparents and a quick visit to see my brother.

I felt a little sick inside as we pulled up to the airport, I only get three-four days with him after he returns.  Those days, based on our final moments as he left today, will be stress-filled.  We will be busy getting him ready with his possessions and his head will be already in Milwaukee, anticipating what the next week will bring.  Stress.

When will it just hit? I need to plan for it.

It all hasn’t hit me yet.  Yes, I get teared up when I read all the blogs my friends are posting on letting kids go.  My current funny favorite is the 12-signs-your-kid-is-leaving-for-college blog.  I identify with at least half of them–#1 for sure–about counting the days until he leaves as thought it were an execution or death sentence. It is funny and I like to try to laugh about it right now.  Rob Lowe’s blog about taking his oldest to school makes me cry every time.  The description of wrapping up his son in his sheets like a burrito the night before they left made me gasp in sobs.  My husband has done this with our kids, and I began picturing the last night with him–I read it a year ago, and I can’t bring myself to read it now.

For the most part, I’ve entered master planner mode, trying to go through the lists of what he needs and trying to mentally pack the car with everything.  I have no idea how we will fit everything, and since he will be 6+ hours away, we will not be able to just down there to bring something.  Being in the planner mode is a sense of comfort to me–it’s what I do.  It’s what I’ve done since I was 27 weeks pregnant, stuck in a hospital trying to keep him inside until he was fully “cooked”, but also trying to outfit a nursery and collect baby clothes.  I couldn’t control the outcome, but I could cross-stitch Tweetie bird on a receiving blanket and a onesie to bring my baby home in.  It was a sense of control. I made lists of things I needed, and mentally planned how I would quickly ready everything once I was “sprung” from my jail-like hospital room.  Now, I feel I’m doing the same.

Then, in my quiet moments, it hits a little bit very slowly.  The other day I got teared up as I folded laundry.  For whatever reason, he went through an extraordinary amount of underwear in our weekly load last week and I was quietly cursing it.  Then, it hit–he’ll be folding his own in a few weeks. Shit. I won’t be doing it. Shit. Shit.

And today, a friend posted a blog from her friend, and it described how much more quiet the house is as your kids leave.  It got me thinking about all the songs I’ve heard over the years from “Joseph” to “Legally Blonde” (never heard Urinetown–he had a lead so wanted to surprise us with the music)…”I’ve got a chip on my shoulder…” (I still know the full chorus of that–4 years later) The random movie conversations, quotes, his weekly impersonation round-up of favorite characters, teachers, classmates, people at the gas station…all those things that were noise before, will be silence.

Yes, he will return, but on a weekend visit, it’ll be hard to get to that comfort level of singing through the house.  I am certain we will get an impersonation round-up of his professors and roommates, but it will be different.  I guess I’ll be ok with different.

Just hit already.

Then, there are the shoes.

Shoes.  The other night he had his buddies over for one last “Halloween” viewing in our basement.  8 pairs of shoes scattered in my foyer, a common site these past 7 years.  The shoes have been just a pair to a peak of about 100 during a cast party last fall.  In Minnesota, it is kind of common to remove your shoes as you come into a house, so it is standard to have shoes scattered.  I will have shoes again as my daughter is just entering high school, but I doubt the common size will be a men’s 13. (If it is, we have much bigger problems.)  As I was tripping over the shoes the other night, I actually chuckled about not complaining about it.  Ah well, I’ll miss those in a week.

For now, I’m going to safely return to planner mode and try to enjoy him when he returns from his visit.  It will be a challenge for sure. He’ll be a bear because he’s nervous and we’ll be frustrated because he’s a bear.

At least I can plan for that.

All summer long

He graduated.

There, I said it.  He is now a high school graduate.  The day that I dreaded came and went about a month ago.  It was a fog really–the senior dinners, the ceremony, the graduation parties.  I made the video that made everyone cry–but me. Now, it is the summer before our lives change and it doesn’t feel a whole lot different other than a few things.

Separation preparation–boy style

He’s busy with work this summer, thankfully he’s getting a lot of hours at his job, but when he is home we aren’t having the chats that we usually do.  I don’t know if he’s worried that I’ll cry or miss him more, or if he’s just trying to prepare for not being able to talk to us at will.

Avoidance

He’s always been the king of this–if he doesn’t want to deal, he avoids. Ordering stuff for his dorm room “doesn’t matter” or talking about debit cards, contact lenses, etc…no time.  The more we avoid, the less he has to think about.

Testing the waters

Ok, so I’m not a saint. Yeah, I said it. When I was in college the stories are pretty embarrassing from my first year of school.  I won’t go into details, but I just pray he figures out his limits quickly, and doesn’t try to be the idiot I was in college.  As my mother said to me when I had kids, “No honey, you won’t make the same mistakes I did, you’ll have your own.”  So I guess I have to hope (pray?) he is a better and stronger person than me.

Overall, I know I’ve raised him pretty well so far as the path while bumpy here and there has not done any left turns to date, and also as my mom told me when I was in that crazy freshman year: “I have to trust that I raised you right up until now.” That statement was quickly followed with a “…and there are some things a mother does not need to know.”

With that said, I will watch his social accounts, but will refrain from asking specifics.  I have to trust that things will go well from here on out.

P.S. As I type this–he’s in antagonizing his sister…here’s hoping this continues for the next six weeks.

–Peace

The *itch is back…

Ok, after a year away, I’ve decided to make a reappearance.  I may never share this with my family and friends, but I figure my kids will at least have a journal of what has happened over the past few years.  As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, my follow through kind of sucks.

So, what has happened in a year?  My kids are another year older for one, but duh, you figured that right?  We’ve had the usual vacations, activities and other things that keep us busy from day to day.

The biggest thing is that this is my LAST year of both kids living under the house because they HAVE to live here.  My eldest, Thing One, is a senior in high school.  I know, I know, it was bound to happen.  People warn you as you cry when you put that kid on the bus for kindergarten the first time that this will happen someday.  No amount of warning, and I mean NOTHING prepares you for what you feel as you approach sending your baby off on a plane to school.  Nothing.  Everything this year is the last of something, last homecoming, last fall play, last finals, last (and in his case first) prom…last, last, LAST.

Everything is changing, so I’ve lined up at least five posts to share all of this with whoever listens.

Peace out.

By the way–if you hadn’t noticed, I try to title all of my blogs after song lyrics.  This was the only one that came to mind this evening, sorry!