Wednesday, August 24, 2016
Things Will Never Be the Same
Part 2
Time in Boston was spent shopping, picking up things we'd ordered in advance, making returns for things that either didn't fit into the dorm, or weren't needed, and then repeating the process over and over again. We even had some time to play.
I managed to keep it together for most of the time before move in, and even then didn't completely lose it. Yes, I cried, and yes, I'm sad, but I'm also really happy for Ben and the new journey he is on. I'm sad that we really won't be together anymore, At least not in the same familiar way you have with the people you love and live with. Even when it was time to go on Sunday, I only cried for a little bit. I guess I still have the ability to fool myself. I kept saying that I would see him tomorrow, and it was no big deal because I really was seeing him tomorrow, and the next day. We kept making changes and exchanges to the stuff he needed for his new life. And it wasn't until Tuesday night that I realized when I said goodbye after the last drop off of stuff that it really was goodbye. And my heart hurt, and it still hurts, and I wonder how long this is going to last.
One of my long time friends posted on Facebook that I was being so brave and handling this gracefully. Here's what I told her: "I feel anything but graceful. I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest over and over again. It reminds me a little bit of childbirth. You take classes, you learn about the process, and then when the time comes, it doesn't go quite as planned, but somehow you survive it. And from that moment forward your whole life is different."
It's true. My whole life is different, and things will never be the same.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Things Will Never Be The Same
Part 1
The plane is taking off into the foggy San Francisco sky, and I suddenly realize that this is the end of me having my baby boy. As the flight leaves home and we head towards Boston I suddenly realize that I have my baby boy on this flight, and the next time I see him after this week, he will be a man. Eighteen years isn't long enough to teach him everything he needs to know. I suspect he will never climb into bed with me just to cuddle, just because he wants me to hold him. Oh my God, what am I going to do without him everyday?
Seth, my sensitive son, seemed to feel it most acutely this morning. He came down to my bedroom after saying goodbye to his big brother with tears streaming down his face. He looked at me and said "Ben's leaving," then gave me a huge hug. For the past week the two of them have been fighting like cats and dogs, far more than the usual brotherly arguing. I only now realize that all the bravado Seth has been showing has just been an act, self preservation in full force. He stomped out of my room, and under his breath says "Happy birthday to me." His birthday is in two days, and for the first time in his life his big brother won't be there to celebrate with him. And he's hurting because of it. After sharing the same room for nearly 17 years, Ben won't be there to annoy Seth with his late night chuckles hidden beneath the covers of his bed as he watches some video on YouTube long after bedtime has come and gone. And somehow Seth realizes it faster and more deeply than I do.
We're sitting on the plane, and Ben has taken out his iPad, and starts to watch one of the episodes of Gotham that he's downloaded. I can't tell if he's having any of those feelings of fear or doubt like I am. I wonder if it's even sunken in for him that our life and our family will never be the same. Maybe this is just his way of numbing out, falling into someplace else where what's happening today, right now, can't sneak into his conscious mind. Or maybe he's having those same feelings of fear and loss that I am, and he's just putting on a good face for me. Maybe he's stronger than I am, and has figured out how to stop the tears that just keep rolling down my cheeks. I want to ask him how he's feeling, but I'm afraid of the answer. On one hand, if he's scared or sad I want to be there to support him. I want to let him know that these feelings are normal, that everyone who leaves home feels them. On the other hand, maybe he's just excited about the next phase of his life, and isn't thinking at all about how the rest of us are feeling. I know this is normal, but a piece of me wants him to know that things will be different at home, that we will be different without him. That we all are hurting. A selfish part of me wants him to feel the same loss that I am feeling. I know that's wrong, but I can't seem to stop these thoughts from coming.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
A Mother's Work is NEVER Done
Yesterday before going to school, I told my nearly 17 year old son, Ben, to go finish up his chores, since he was ready to go, and it' wasn't time to leave yet. He had the audacity to look me in the eye, and say, "What are YOUR chores around the house, Mom?" I was really taken off guard, I mean, was he being serious? What are MY chores around the house? Hmmm.... let me see... how about I list them here:
- Make sure everyone gets out of bed on time
- Make sure everyone has breakfast, lunch, has brushed their teeth, gotten dressed, has their homework... you get the idea.
- Drive everyone to school, lessons, appointments, etc....
- Drop off forgotten notebooks, homework, musical instruments at school.
- Pick up from school, lessons, appointments, etc....
- Make sure that there are available snacks to take to the various school clubs, events, etc....
- Sign permission slips, write sick notes.
- Make Doctor, Dentist, eye doctor, and hair cut appointments.
- Take out the compost when it's been forgotten (yes, Ben, I am talking to you now)
- Feed the cats when they've been forgotten.
- Wash, dry, and fold the laundry.
- Grocery shopping, medicine pick up, emergency runs to the drugstore, grocery store, etc... for the supplies needed for the project you knew about 2 weeks ago, but didn't bother to work on until the night before it is due.
- Clothes and shoe shopping.
- Disposal of clothing that no longer fits, looks good, or is wanted.
- Print out homework when the printer no longer functions.
Oh, and I forgot to mention that I run my own business, and help run the business that Gary and I own together. Does that seem like enough?
Friday, January 15, 2010
January 15, 2010
Broccoli Romanesco for Dinner
We had one of the most unusal looking vegetables for dinner tonight. It was delicious.
Labels: January 15 2010 - Broccoli Romanesco
Thursday, January 14, 2010
January 14, 2010
Sleeping baby
She was asleep when I left this morning, and she was asleep when I came home tonight. I see her sleeping a lot.
Labels: January 14 2010 - Sleeping Lily
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
January 13, 2010
Lily's baby Julie got some new clothes.
Lily's pretty excited about it. Even Julie looks pretty happy.
Had lunch today with Lynn at Pera on Potrero Hill. Food was pretty good, but the company was even better.
Labels: January 13 2010 - Lily with Julie
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
January 12, 2010
All the lonely socks. Where do they all come from?
This picture is the pile of the kids colored socks that don't have a match. This is only one of four groups of socks. The other 3 are whites for the kids, socks for Gary and socks for me.
Everytime I do laundry, I end up finding a lonely solo sock or two that matches one I washed, and another few socks join the ever growing mountain of mismatched socks. If I ever get to the end of 'Mount Washmore' will I be able to throw away the ones that are left? Do I have some sort of mental illness that prevents me from just throwing away all of the leftovers?
Somehow this pile reminds me of the place in the movie Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer where all the misfit toys ended up, except this is where all the mismatched socks live. It's a lonely place, where the discarded toys know that nobody wants them. I wonder if any of the socks hook up while their sitting around waiting for me to find them a match. Do they get excited when Seth decides to wear them mismatched? I guess these are better thoughts than one that starts something like "I wonder if my washing machine eats some of my socks, and that's why I have so many mismatches." See my post on January 4th for more on the direction this thought leads to. It's not pretty.
Labels: January 12 2010 - All the lonely socks
