Here’s what I want to know. Who let these two goofy teenagers take this baby home from the hospital?

Look, even the baby isn’t happy about it.

I’m showing you this picture because in it, my husband and I are roughly the age the boy (the little bald kid in the overalls) is now. Twenty-ish. Nineteenish.

Unbelievably, this guy just signed a lease. He signed a lease and he’s moving out on his own. He may or may not take the gorilla with him.

He is, allegedly, a grownup.

He’s been ready for this adventure for awhile. He’s a pretty responsible guy and has half his college education behind him at this point. I don’t take the obligatory first-day-of-school pictures anymore — in fact, the one above, from fifth grade, may be the last in existence.

We’ll miss him, of course, but he’ll only be across town (I keep telling myself) and once in awhile, he might need something from his dear old mom.

He’s ready for this, I know.

Am I?

]]> http://www.stlworkingmom.com/2010/07/01/the-boys-movin-out/feed/ 7 http://www.stlworkingmom.com/2010/06/22/saying-goodbye-to-grandma-ruby/#utm_source=feed&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=feed http://www.stlworkingmom.com/2010/06/22/saying-goodbye-to-grandma-ruby/#comments Wed, 23 Jun 2010 00:11:50 +0000 marijean http://www.stlworkingmom.com/?p=1637

You may have noticed I’ve been a little quiet here, lately. In real life, events take place that don’t get shared on this blog. It becomes difficult to write, because what’s most on my mind, is not something I’m sharing online. We were also away; off the grid for a few days.

We were saying goodbye to Grandma Ruby, my husband’s grandmother, who passed away several weeks ago, but the memorial was just this Saturday past.

I snapped the photo above of our two kids walking to the service together. They’re dressed up. They’re walking together. It’s a rarity so I captured the image to share.

I don’t write about these events on my blog because they’re private, personal. I have a responsibility to honor the wishes of the rest of my family in this space. I will tell you this, though . . .

When I was born I had three living grandparents, the last of these passed away in the late 1990s when I was in my twenties.  Feeling sorry for me, my husband who, at the time and until he was in his thirties had four — a full set of living grandparents, “gave” me grandma Ruby. Grandma Ruby was mine from that point on. Having known her so long, she was as much my grandmother as my husband’s and so it was not so easy to say farewell.

I also don’t write about these events because I hate getting tears all over my keyboard.

I wanted you to know we’re back; all is well. We’ve said goodbye and we’re drying our faces. Moving on.

The girl came home from school with a friend. Once she obtained some cash from me (so what else is new?) the two of them walked to the local farmers’ market to shop for some veggies. They returned just before dinnertime and so I invited her friend to stay and eat. I then asked the girl if she’d run upstairs and iron the napkins I’d left on the ironing board.

That’s right. It’s Tuesday and we’re using cloth napkins. Take that, you EcoWomen.

So I was finishing making dinner — just spaghetti — nothing really special and I overheard my daughter’s friend say this:

“We never have dinner like this. I usually just grab something from the kitchen and lock myself in my room for the night.”

It sort of choked me up for a moment. She seemed bewildered by our dinner preparations. Now, I don’t know what her life is like; I don’t know if there are reasons or if that’s just how dinner is done at her house. What I do know is that this is not the first time I have heard this kind of thing. I’ve had a group of the girls friends over for a sleepover and made them French toast to have them exclaim that they didn’t know you could actually make French toast; that it didn’t just come from a box.

I had no idea ya’ll were living like this. What are you feeding your kids? And how come you’re not eating together? Is that how you grew up?

I grew up sitting at a table with a placemat and all the food groups before me. Sometimes there was even dessert (maybe Jell-O or instant pudding). We sometimes went out to dinner, but we ate as a family.

I haven’t watched any of Jamie Oliver’s campaign but I understand it better now, I think. It’s not bad food in our schools and junk food marketed to our children and to us as convenient options for busy parents; it’s moms and dads not making the time and putting in the effort to be mindful of the food our kids eat and the chance to gather with them at a table. It may be, as it is often in our house, the only chance you get to eyeball those kids, make sure they’re OK and find out what’s going on in their lives, before they’re off to the next activity.

Please tell me there are more of you out there doing what we do.

I am so lucky. I have a great mom.  I realize I’m so fortunate to even HAVE a mom but I am particularly blessed to have THIS one.

It’s a little-known fact that God carries a piece of paper in his pocket with this woman’s name on it.  And everyone my mom has prayed for over the years is just this much closer to heaven. (I know this is a good thing for me; and I suspect a few of my cousins as well.)

My mom is not the kind of mom who calls every day, or who expects me to call her every day. We talk when we have something to say. And that’s OK with us. When we DO talk, we often laugh (I like nothing better than making my mother laugh).

There’s a lot we don’t have in common. I inhale all kinds of books and my mom will only read nonfiction. Our politics are vastly different (and mostly I try not to even bring them up!) I knit; she crochets. On the flip side, we both love to drink tea, love a good deal and going out to restaurants. My mom has always been there for me, even when we don’t agree. As a mom, she’s been the best example, remembered to teach me all kinds of things from the mundane (napkin folding!) to the excellent (how to care for a person in an emergency without freaking out).

My mom is also not the self-absorbed egotist that I am, so this post will likely make her blush a bit, but I want you to know that my mom is the BEST mom and I know how very lucky I am to have her in my life.

Happy Mother’s Day (and yes, this time it’s singular) Mom!

1. Make a game out of it!
2. You have to forgive.
3. Delegate!
4. Get out and move.
5. Pray about it.

What words does your mother say (in your head or out loud)?

On what more or less amounts to a whim, we liberated the girl from school early and went to Orlando for her Spring Break. It was not in any way a relaxing vacation, as we sprinted from theme park to theme park over four days, but dang was it fun.

We went, in order, to Animal Kingdom, Epcot, both Universal parks and the Magic Kingdom. We also visited Downtown Disney and Universal CityWalk. And Monday morning, we drove to Titusville to watch the space shuttle launch. Somehow the girl and I also found time to swim and sit in the sun.

One of the most exciting parts of the trip was getting a glimpse of the soon-to-open Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal. It opens June 18, 2010 in case you’re making summer plans. It looks so fantastic I’m really tempted to look into a trip back next year. (Note to Universal: any blogger breaks for the opening?)

From what we could see, it looks like they’re doing a fine job recreating Hogwarts in its entirety, and have several very cool, very Harry Potter-authentic attractions planned.

So while it wasn’t relaxing, it was an excellent distraction and exactly what the two adults needed and not too bad for the kid, either.

I know, of course that this kind of thing would be unthinkable for most mothers. First, the workweek absence from family, second the in-laws moving in to replace you and third, spending every weekend for an entire semester without time alone with your husband, let alone your children.

I think, though, there has to be some peace of mind, and a reasonable trade-off for my neighbor, who is free to go devote herself to her work during the week without worrying about her girls or her husband. She can return on Friday and fully focus on her family for the weekend. I hope (because I don’t know) that nothing awaits her return; that laundry isn’t piled up waiting to be done; that she doesn’t have to resume cooking or cleaning duties just because she’s there for a precious few hours. I hope, for her sake that having her in-laws there is truly helpful and not a burden; that they don’t seem like guests she must serve and entertain. I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s like that at all. If anything, the grandfather and grandmother are working constantly, caring for the girls, working in the yard, helping to build a new shed in my neighbors’ yard. They are tireless.

I’m traveling quite a bit this year for work. Wonder if my in-laws would like to pay a little visit?

Yeah. I’m touchy.

What’s important today is not my touchiness. It’s this boy. This man. This kid that I have loved for 20 years. This guy that has made me laugh and cry and holler his First Middle and Last name in the tradition of mothers all over the world. This boy who is now a wonderful grownup. He’s responsible! He’s a good driver! He’s the best employee at his job! He gets good grades! He’s a good, albeit snarky big brother! He is, in general, a guy I’d like if we weren’t related by blood; if we just met on the street.

So happy birthday son. I’m so dang proud of you.

Love,

Mom