Monday, April 3, 2017

Let It Go

Well, here we are. Less than 2 short months before my oldest son's graduation. It has happened in the blink of an eye. Before I was mentally (or emotionally) prepared for it, it came and has been sauntering all cocky and confident up my sidewalk getting closer and closer to my door. One would think that I would have seen it coming; somehow I should have known that this day would happen whether I wanted it to or not. But, I have to tell you, while parenting I've rarely contemplated this actual day. I mean, we don't generally enjoy releasing our prized creation into the wild!  I've been so consumed in the thick of it that I haven't even considered the magnitude of this next step. Nevertheless, it will be here before I know it and whether I like it or not.

And so it begins. The very real "letting go" of a child. There it is. That's the rub. The hidden agenda of this whole parenting gig. No...the sleepless nights and tantrums aren't the hardest part. The letting go is. You see...this boy, this little boy that has grown into a handsome, mature, ready-to-conquer-the-world young man holds a huge chunk of my heart; quite frankly, a piece of my very soul strolls around with that little boy-er- young man. And I am expected to gracefully and joyfully open the door and allow him to walk into the world...all on his own...while I watch and pray and trust that the world will love him back.

We put all of our efforts, time and money into these little creatures...they've even spoken for money Captain Hubby and I haven't even earned yet! They quite literally get our blood, sweat and tears. Every ounce of energy; every waking moment; several supposed-to-be sleeping moments; all of me as a mother has gone into raising, grooming, teaching, molding, rooting for, supporting and defending this boy. Of course, that doesn't end the minute he crosses that stage all proud and determined and convinced that he's leaving home. But it surely changes things. It changes the dynamic of our mother-son relationship; it changes the ebb and flow of our little family; it changes the camaraderie between him and all his brothers. He will no longer be "one of the posse", he won't be part of the 6 when I count my crew; he may never ever again be considered one of my Woozles. And that makes me sad.

No longer will I have 2 "Bigs" as I'm gathering my crew. No longer will I set his place at the table and curse under my breath when he doesn't arrive promptly because he was engrossed in an Xbox game; No longer will we juggle our schedules to accommodate the oldest teens' schedule. Nope. That's all going to change. And for some crazy reason, people seem to think I should be excited, happy and ready for this moment. This moment that's been 18 plus years in the making.

Eighteen years is a long time...a really long time...a really, really long time to fiercely mother someone and then simply go cold turkey. I'm not sure it's for me. I'm not positive I'm that trusting, graceful mama that will wave and smile and watch him drive off. No! My name is Crystal, and I'm 100% addicted to this human that I created with my own body. I won't comply! I'm throwing the proverbial bull shit flag on this entire production! As mothers, we've gotten the short end of the stick. Explosion diapers, baby puke running down my back, so many pee-in-the-face moments that it hardly phases me anymore, tantrums, injuries, spelling tests, teaching a teen how to drive (who's brilliant idea was that?!), numerous rogue nut-cup sightings and now that I have finally groomed this drooling little fart-machine into a well-mannered, respectful and functioning human I'm EXPECTED to just unlock the door and let him go?! What the what! Did I wrong someone in some previous life? I have 2 that still don't even wipe their own butts, take one of them! Don't take the individual that laughs at my jokes, has civil conversations with me, takes care of bathroom business without involving or alerting me and (for the most part) cleans up after himself. Take any of the other 5! Not because I don't love them as fiercely, but because I'm certain that they are SO unprepared for life without me that they'll barely make it past the driveway before they come rushing back to me.

I'm certain that there is going to be some ugly crying, a tantrum even, that is going to ensue when he attempts to break free of this Mom-dom. To hell with letting them spread their wings and fly. I'm much more on board with breaking those wings and keeping them safe and sound in this nest.

Sick and twisted. This whole thing is sick and twisted. On behalf of all of the mamas of the Class of 2017, "Nuts and bolts! Nuts and bolts! We got screwed!"