I never quite seem to get used to this motherhood lark. Usually I’ve a light touch, as much as I can get away with, and they sort themselves out. Because of course they do. Apart from anxiety meltdowns and understanding that the crockery needs to return to the kitchen (but of course there are magic elves for such, even if they are not allowed in the room!).
My boy has been pretty straightforward to grow, all in all. He gets more like his dad all the time and I miss him already, but still he will stop and natter with me and those times are ridiculously precious (even if they are while I’m mid-working – I tell myself that this day will come soon so to cherish the time).
We are told when they are very small that the time will fly and before we know it they’ll be away to their lives beyond. Turns out “they” were right – where the actual fuck did the last 18 years go? #rhetorical
At the time, some of the times feel like forever and when will this particular stage of feeding, weaning, toilet-training, tantrums, hormones, exam stresses, teenage angst, first crush, ever end. And they all do, truly they do. Now it’s the worry that he’ll eat well enough, that he’ll make friends, that he’ll absolutely have a great time – and even if he doesn’t he will handle it, of course he will. Or he can come home – because our home will always be their home for as long as they need it, and they know this. Hopefully this knowledge will provide a good place from which to spring into adulting. I’ve no idea, no frame of reference whatsoever, but reckon have done as well as I could and that will be good enough. He’s a good person, he knows I’m here, that his dad is here, and that we always will be, unconditionally.
One thing I’ve certainly underestimated is how bloody expensive it is! I really should just hand over details to my bank account and/or transfer everything that comes in. I suppose I did not have to get enough food to last a week, or double up on all the bed linen (even if the Student forum said to)! But it is what we do, us mums, I imagine. Dads no doubt slip them cash for whatever they need and leave it at that (actually, Simon bought another week’s groceries while at the campus, apparently, because he was brought up that way – bless him). Us mums know that they don’t have a clue, not because we’ve not tried to show them how to make pasta or steam vegetables or wash the bed linen or clean a toilet – you try showing a teenager in the throes of A levels anything – not happening. And afterwards they are too tired, and then they are busy going out, enjoying being 18! And this mum did not catch them young. But for everything I’ve missed there is YouTube – they learn everything by video it seems. Mind you, there is time to train the younger fledgeling – they won’t be impressed, but such is the joy of being not being the eldest! Of course it’s all fine. He’ll be fine and cope with whatever comes his way. My wish is for him to have an amazing time, but it will be what it will be.
And instead of sending Brownie packages regularly, I will document the making of such and post the ingredients and the spare baking tin so he can make his own! OK, one batch went with him, of course it did. And of course I will send parcels of treats – isn’t that normal?
Tomorrow will be a day of binge-watching something or other while working on the laptop and generally keeping thoroughly busy! I just hope to goodness I don’t blub until the husband wrests my chick away from me to take him to his new life…
Edit: I was actually too poorly to do anything other than sleep on the day – I can actually thoroughly recommend this as a way for the apron strings to be detached without noticing.