The Boys are Back in Town!

 Well, almost...

Tonight, if all goes as planned.
Read that again, my boys are coming  home from college tonight!
I'm so excited.  I am, I am just pleased as punch that they are coming home tonight (No, that phrasing doesn't date me at all....jeepers!).

They are driving home together after classes tonight, hopefully the weather will clear and they will get in safe and sound.  Most of the kids will be asleep I think.  I might be too.  But I will wake up, and hustle downstairs and hug them tight, grinning and maybe blinking back a tear or two.  How do I know? Because just typing that they are coming home makes me blink back a tear or two (It's been a tough week or so, I'm just so pleased to get all my kiddos, my big guys, back in the house altogether). 

So, I am prepping the house for thanksgiving.  I'm giving myself permission to kick Martha Stewart and her looming pressure ghost of insane perfectionism right OUT of my house and instead focusing on making this a calm happy peaceful thanksgiving, big family style.  The first part of that is a little quiet time this morning to set up the dining room and the boys room, maybe make a little something good for them to eat when they arrive.

Because my boys are coming home!
And I am counting my  blessings.

When your boy comes home.

It's a happy week.....and I'm a happy mom.
because my boy is home from college, for the week only, but I'll take it.

 Here is what you remember when one of your son's come home again, these things that so easily you forget in the hustle and crazy of everyday life:

That it feels so good to hug him, to feel him solid and sure and there; instead of crackling over a dropping cell phone connection or a glitchy skype feed.

That you never do expect to feel that blink of tears,
or that gasp of recognition, "There he is!"
just because he's walked into your kitchen with a big eager grin.
That that big grin and quick step to hug you means everything.

That he looks good - that he's growing up even as you can see the small changes now, in your kitchen, but that it is settling on him well.

That  you really think its a great dance to see the hubub of siblings all talking at the same time and twisting around each other to get plates and milk and it doesn't matter that it's late and the kitchen is getting messy again and the windows are dark and it's way past bedtime.
That standing around the kitchen counters and between the bags and stalling bedtime is just the best thing to do on a late Sunday night, when a boy comes home again.
That you really really enjoy watching him eat cake and soak in the hubub of his house, again.

That you love to cook for your kids who love to eat.
That is a treat to cook a Halloween supper a week in advance; upon personal request.
That brisket cooking on the stove is a smell of love and happy.
And that homemade chili and cornbread, pumpkin pie and goofy little mini wrapped hotdogs wrapped mean home.

That even bandaging him up, now all big and growing up as a man, is still a privilege and a way to be a hands on mom {and he is kind enough to ask me to do it}.
That bandaging up his elbow will make me think of all the reckless hurts he's had, that I've bandaged, on this daredevil boy and maybe make me blink hard for a minute.
That making the house a home for this week is important and it's not only for this boy, on his return.....
But it's important for the family.
It's important for his brothers and sisters to see that welcome and that soaking right back into the family.
It's for me.
It's where the joy is...in the small things...the things that matter in that quiet sink in sort of way.

So today I remember the beauty in the red pot simmering on the stove,
in the bowl of apples,
in the bandages,
and in the folding of clean shirts.
And I see it fresh, for a moment, in the heart of this home, his home, that he returns to with a grin and a sigh and a "It's really really good to be home."

Yeah.  It is.

Almost Wordless Wednesday

 Frosh-O: Sunday.

or....

How to look haggard in the last hour with your new freshman.

for more wordless wednesday, click here

Going, going....

Going.
We are going.
We are going tomorrow to take my son to college.

 He is going.
He is, in many but not all ways, moving out.
Why yes, tear did just spring to my eyes, just typing that, thank you for noticing.

(this is eldest, one of those goodbye's that we've done many times..)

And I kept and keep thinking that since this is boy number two, meaning second time, that we've done this...it should somehow be easier.
But it's not.
Not at all.
But,  he's ready.

 He's excited to go and we are excited for him and the big adventures he has ahead.
His dad and I think he is gonna fly, soar and maybe set the world on fire.

We are not quite ready for the house to be so quiet, ok, not that it will actually quiet...but there is a difference, a tangible physical difference of presence or lack thereof in the house when the college kid(s) are in school.
We are not quite ready for most of our talks to be on the phone or the occasional skype.
I am not quite ready to not see him for a long time.
So, I'm  not gonna think about that.
And I'm  not gonna think about how coffeedoc kind of grieves after the boy(s) go.
But he does.
But life is awfully busy happening in our house too, so we will focus on that.

Today we prep for the long hot drive tomorrow.
We pack up my big old car.
We do a last load or two of laundry.
We change the oil and fill the tank.
Tonight we have a double party: going away and pre-bday party for tom.
And then I have to watch him hug  his sibs goodbye and try very very hard not to break down and cry in front of them.
Because tomorrow we are going.

 Tomorrow  he is going, going....going to take on the world.
And we will laugh cry and cheer him on, the whole way.

Suddenly: Last Summer

We are here.
The last real summer.
And it's a doozy.

I am talking about this last summer with my Booboo, my Jon (I can still call him that, mom privilege).
He is a graduate now, all 18 and big and prepping to head off to college.
And while you might think, "Oh, there she goes again, being all maudlin and melodramatic," and you would be right to a degree.........
This summer is different.
It is rare and precious.

And, kinda excruciating.
And, kinda exhilarating.

Yes, he will be home again, on breaks and next summer too.  But it will be forever different, changed in tone, tempo, tenor.  Some of those changes are great steps forward, and important, necessary and even welcomed by us all.  But even so, change is hard, and even when he comes home for extended weeks in the summer it will be different.  It's irrevocable.  That's part of the process.  I know it. He knows it.  We all know it, and can feel it pressing on the edges.
It's there, rushing toward us - too too fast.
But also, on those hard angry fussy hurting days, in it's own way it's too slow.
Especially too slow for my son, who is simply twitching right out of his skin to break loose and head off into his own life.
But, maybe, just maybe some days, also a little tiny bit too fast for my son...who loves summer and needs a bit of time to prepare himself for this big change....then again, that might just be ME.  (Oh, right.)

He needs us still, and will.
But he doesn't, and shouldn't as much, also.
Besides, there is work to be done; work that IS being done.
It is important work, but oh, it is the hardest work there is.

(Yup, I look just like that, feather-version.....yup yup...ahem.  

Maybe some of those hard days tho, we both do.)

Separation.

The unconscious prep to start into a new life, and the classic process of parting those ties a bit: it's textbook.  But, often the process finds itself played out in the short fuses and loud or hard arguments over often stupid things or stupid misinterpretations.
My husband asks me, "Why do you let him push your buttons? Just shrug and hold the line." But it's not so easy for me.
One, because I stink at doing that.  I am like one of those phones for toddlers or elderly where the buttons are enormous, to aid in their ease of pushing.  That's me, easy buttons to push all over.  Especially here, I guess.  Tom/Coffeedoc's right, of course.
Two, because often it's me pushing my son's buttons to a degree, having expectations that might not be utterly fair.  (Ok, I'm just saying, it took a lot to admit that.....ouch).  
This work is being done mostly by Jon and me, the family and dad too a little,  but the hard work...it's the two of us.
We have to ease out of this tightly knit together life we have into a new stitch of knitting.
A looser stitch, no less strong, but even so, it has to be unraveled a bit to retie it anew.
Not far.
Just a bit, and with a new pattern.
Stronger even.

But right now, those unforeseen, loud or angry and/or frustrated misunderstandings are very hard.

This summer, suddenly, is about time together that is so good that it takes my breath with wonder at this great young kid/man who is smart and funny and good, deeply good.
Then, we both turn around and we are simply aggravating each other and stepping on land mines that blow up in our faces.  Ouch.
The swings and shifts are hard.
And that is so typical, it seems...of a mom and her boy, who is heading off to college, out of the house, into the world.

Suddenly...it's the last summer.