I am mother, hear me worry.

My husband is leaving Thursday morning for a three day business trip.  The very thought of his absence feels like someone has swallowed the key, locking me in here forever.  The reality of being home with my kids (and random neighborhood kids) through the weekend is not horrible.  I can sort of sleep in on Saturday (minus the twenty-minute check-ins from my daughter–it’s like the warden is legally obligated to make sure I’m still alive).  I can drive in my mini-van wherever I want, as long as I have it full of underage passengers.  I can cook whatever suits my fancy.
But I cannot be alone.  And being alone is what I crave, even more than Diet Coke with Lime.

Furthermore, I am faced with a stretch of days with no solitude in sight, for when Saturday ends, the hustle-bustle of another week begins . . . and the following Saturday I have a social obligation . . . and the following Saturday, I have another social obligation.  Then it will be December.

I am in uncharted territory, this vast land of childhood where sippy cups are no longer required and children can buckle and unbuckle their seatbelts with no help from me.  My youngest child refuses to hold my hand in parking lots, reminding me, “I am a big girl now.”  I peer ahead and see signs:  “Driving Permits Here” and “College Applications Here” and the very idea offers simultaneous hope and terror.

Evan Almighty movie

I wonder if my parents were as freaked out by the uncertain future as I am?  Did they worry?  Or did they focus all their worry on my other siblings since I was so responsible?

I’d ponder more, but my son needs help with algebra now and I hear the distinct sound of trouble in their room.

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I am mother, hear me worry.

4 thoughts on “I am mother, hear me worry.

  1. Lisa Burns says:

    The only thing better than diet coke with lime is…well, evil, regular coke, with lime!
    And I have to imagine that my parents were equally feeling bittersweet about my leaving home and facing the world. My mom speaks of it now…she was losing children to adulthood and facing early menopause. It wasn’t an easy time for her.
    Hannah is a senior. I just ordered her cap, gown, and graduation announcements. We are filling out college applications and taking ACT’s and the SAT…and I am fighting the urge to tear up. I tell myself often that many women have survived this thru the ages. Though I know it is inevitable, it just feels so unreal…this tearing away that occurs as they stand on their own two feet. We tell ourselves when they are young that it is just around the corner, but we really don’t have a clue just how quickly it will go…even when we are watching as closely as we know how to.
    Yep, I bet our parents went thru it too…but if they had told us how bittersweet it could be…well, we wouldn’t have had a clue what that would be like, not until we experienced it.
    I believe the pain of watching them grow is evidence of how greatly we love…and I wouldn’t want to trade one second.

    Like

  2. Ugh,I know how it is when hubbies leave. Hope the time flies by! (though I know it won’t)

    And I close my ears and say “lalala” when you talk about kids growing up/refusing hand holding and such.

    Like

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