Yet, my whole life has changed as we create a new life in a new place. I’ve done pretty good considering I’m change-resistant (please don’t verify this with Mad Dog, let me hold on to this one, tiny little dream). However, if you are reading this Mad Dog, please stop sending workers of various sorts to my house. Even if just for a day.
Is that too much to ask?
I already know the answer. But, for the sake of writing the rest of the post, let me have this other, tiny little dream of a day with no strangers in my home. At least let it live on for a little while.
See? Doesn’t that feel better?
Everything is good. Everything will be fine. I’m just the slowest to adapt to new surroundings compared to everyone else in my house.
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Even Max, who is my own version of a superhero disguised as a shih-tzu, is adjusting seamlessly. His only complaint is that I am too busy for the amount of daily snuggles he requires. There has been some crying and whining, ok, so it’s mostly my own, but, still, he follows me valiantly. His 15-year-old self has navigated boxes and new-to-him corners with an unrelenting persistence to keep me in sight.
I wish everyone had a Max.
If they did, his kind of devoted love would fix us all.
I don’t know how long Max will call the Lone Star state his home, but I will be grateful for every day that he does.
This summer has me so overwhelmed with change that I feel like part of me has shut down to cope. I am operating more in logic and less in feeling.
The feelings will have to come later.
Before we knew we were moving to a new state, we signed Full Speed up for a three-week academic class held on a college campus. Even then, while I was thrilled for him to have this unique opportunity, I was not particularly happy about him being away for three weeks. Throw some travel and our family changing addresses into the mix and I am surprised I am still standing.
The most unsettling part of this process with Full Speed was how extremely collegiate it all felt. We had to make sure he had linens and towels. He also needed shower shoes and a caddy for supplies to be used in the dorm showers.
Once we arrived at his dorm, it continued to take on a surreal quality. A feeling of yes, he is only thirteen, and yes, he will return home, but also a feeling of what our future without Full Speed may look like.
It’s not great, folks. Not great at all.
The positive is we obviously love our kid and should be grateful that we are missing him.
It would be rather telling if we broke out the bubbly and celebrated his departure with a joyful clink of glasses. There was no toasting. Only a sinking sensation that Full Speed is well on his way to carving out his own life.
I cannot tell you the willpower it took to not cry when we left him at his dorm. I held it together. I don’t know how, but I did.
My goal is to stay focused on the present moment and be mindful of what will feel supportive to him in terms of how much I communicate with him.
Unfortunately, him live-streaming his day to my phone is not an option.
Weird, I know.
Instead, I sense he is consumed by new routines, meeting new people and mastering the intensive curriculum ahead.
Texting his mom should not be a priority.
I get it.
I don’t have to like it, but I get it.
I have always known that my children have never really been mine. The most ‘ownership’ I can claim over them has maybe been the nine months I carried them. Once they arrived in the world it has been my one of my greatest honors to walk along beside them as I do my best to let them go.
Now, more so than ever before, it is time for Full Speed to walk ahead alone.
I love you, Full Speed. I am so proud to be your mom.
May this opportunity open your eyes to the infinite possibilities of life.
And remember, I am only a phone call away.
You’ve got this.
For the record, I can neither confirm or deny if T.Puzzle is missing Full Speed.
Ok, I lied.
I can confirm he totally does though he would never say it out loud.
And, I thank my lucky stars to have this one-on-one time with him.
By the time the boys and I met our friends at a local restaurant, it was well past lunchtime. My friend and I took advantage of the post-lunch lull and asked to be seated in separate booths from our small gang of boys (she has three all around my boys’ ages).
We were hoping to have some quiet conversation and allow our guys the independence to order by themselves. We had no illusions about the process. We were fine with burgers and fries for all.
Later, when we were home. The boys cracked up over how long it took all of them to order. But, they did it.
T.Puzzle was particularly amused when two of his friends ordered their burgers ‘well-done’. Through the years we always have coached him to choose ‘medium’.
“Why do you think this is so funny, T.Puzzle? Some people happen to prefer their meat to be cooked all the way through,” I said.
“Oh! I thought they were telling the waiter to let the cook know they wanted their burger to be good or else.”