They Grow Up So Fast
I had a 9:30am conference call today. I can almost tell you what we talked about. It was a big struggle to keep my eyelids from clasping down over my eyes. This staying up until 3 o’clock in the morning thing is not for me. Maybe fifteen years ago I could have stayed up that late and still have been functional in the morning, but unfortunately those days are long gone for me now. Thank goodness for naps.
As mentioned yesterday, I drove my son to school at 2:30 in the morning; right on schedule for his long trip to Washington D.C. We found his chaperon, got his luggage tags on his suitcase and carry-on, and he got his emergency card (a card he must carry at all times with a phone number he can call should he get separated from the group at any point in the trip…although he can’t find his cell phone so I hope he has change for a payphone if he gets lost). Then we stood around and waited for him to board the charter bus.
Once I talked to his chaperon, my love-of-my-life thirteen-year-old did not want me hanging around anymore. I got him there and after just a couple minutes he was ready for me to leave. I was just the chauffeur. Teenagers! It’s not like I was the only parent there. Lots of other parents were still there hanging out with their kids until the very last minute too. Teens just don’t understand how nerve-wrecking a thousand mile trip is on a parent. In twenty years, when he has a kid and goes through this I expect him to call me with an apology.
After several “Ok, Mom. You can leave now,” speeches, he walked away from me. He actually walked away from me, leaving me standing there by myself. His mother. The woman who gave birth to him. The woman who spent the last three days in a total panic because her baby is leaving the nest. The nerve of him.
If I hadn’t been so tired I would have had strong words to say about that. Instead I shuffled over to him and threatened to give him a big kiss on the lips if he didn’t give me a hug before I left. [I also threatened to rub my snotty nose on him because I'm mature like that at 2:30 in the morning.] I’m not sure if it was the threat of the kiss or the snot, but either way he finally gave me a hug goodbye.
As I walked out of the school cafeteria I looked back through the sea of eighth graders to see him in conversation and laughing with his friends. He didn’t even miss me. I wiped away a tear and walked to my car. Kids grow up way too fast.
Whats that old book — I Hate You, Leave Me Alone, But First Could You Drop Me Off At The Mall?
Christine – he’ll have fun! We are an hour from DC and my kids love going into the big city.
The days are long but the years are short.
I am going to give my tween a hug RIGHT NOW!
See I should have stayed to keep you company. Brendon walked off and left me too to give a friend some candy he had promised him. If I hadn’t still been there, he would have left his luggage unattended. He learned nothing I said about watching out for pick pockets and people ready to grab your carry on bag. He sent me some picture messages on Friday from the White House and the National Cathedral so I felt really good that he had thought about his ole mom while on his trip. Home tomorrow!
Christine–
My wife and I don’t have kids yet, I just came across this blog because I have been stocking up on all the “fathering manuals” and watching “Jon and Kate Plus 8″ etc. trying to prepare myself for the eventuality of having a child of my own. I thought this blog might be good reading to see what kind of challenges I will face as a father and boy is it! Anyway, enough explaining why I’m here–I read your entry and I want you to know that I almost cried for you–I WAS THAT BOY! We’re from Chicago, and I remember my Mom dropping me off for our Close-Up (is it still called that?) trip back when I was in 8th grade. It was agonizing to have her show me affection; I was not particularly good at sports, I won the spelling bee (read: DORK!) and I was not tall or good looking by a long shot. What I’m trying to impress upon you is that the ONLY thing that I had in my own power was the ability to act “cool”. That was (at that time) the only thing that would get me a girlfriend, popular, invited to sleepovers, whatever…I never thought of the woman at the other end of that cold shoulder. It’s been years, and I’ve apologized profusely for being a brat, and I am impressed at how *tough* my mother was, but I want you to know that we *don’t* grow up that fast…inside of me all through that trip was a boy who wanted his mom to share with him the incredible colors of Roy Lichtenstein and Andy Warhol at the Smithsonian Museum of Modern Art, but could only make fun of it because he was with the “cool kids”, and the boy that wanted to visit the mysterious Masonic landmarks of DC, but had to settle for “Hey…your name rhymes with Mason”, and the boy who, with the money his mom gave him, bought all kinds of “junk”–pewter thimbles, postcards, mini Washington monuments–to give her when he got back home.
We love and miss our moms in our own way…Thanks for your post!