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Day 3 sans Nic: Still tired!
Sitting on the couch forcing myself to write this post. I don’t want to go from ‘Day one’ to ‘Nic’s back!’
I’m waiting for that moment that I come home or AM home and catch up on the rest that always alludes me.
I’ve come to the conclusion, that Nic was never the cause of my exhaustion. Well, not since he’s been able to dress, bathe, feed and relocate himself without my assistance.
Interesting findings.
So – work, pet and chores appear to be the culprits.
Other noticeable changes, when I go into the freezer for an ice cube, there ARE ice cubes. I haven’t been through a fast food drive through since he left. And from the looks of the laundry basket, I will only be occupying one washing machine tomorrow.
Butters has been very aware of Nic’s absence. When she barks, much to my chagrin, it’s now with an urgency and suspicion. Which is increasingly creeping me out at night. She’s ‘on guard’ without having been appointed the position.
Animals are so aware.
She was rewarded with a bath Friday night (okay, she didn’t see it that way) and this morning I sang her the theme song to the ‘Love Boat’. She was thrilled the first time.
The second time, I recorded it and shared it on Facebook. She had the audacity to yawn in the middle of my crooning.
Awoke to a Facebook IM from Nic, first actual contact, it said “Ello govna!” I did manage a mild eye roll even as sleepy as I was.
Of course, it was sent at 3:45 am my time, so I didn’t get to chat with him.
He and my mom and my uncle were off to Windsor today. Something sweet about my son going to the town where I was born.
I hope to share some photos when he posts them. So far, he photographed a couple shots from the plane’s window, two photos of his in flight food and one picture of the view from my uncles flat window. (Yes, I know windows are flat, I’m referring to his apartment window.)
I shall now watch my usual Saturday night English comedies, and bid you a good Saturday night.
So does Butters.
If you love someone – get them out!
Nic will be 18 in 18 days. I’ve struggled with this, of course, I want to keep him close. I don’t want his childhood to be over. I don’t want to lose what we have.
But God doesn’t have grandchildren.
Nic has his own life waiting for him. AND, it is HIS life. I can want things for him – as parents, we do that. But unless he wants something for himself, it’s not going to happen.
I could hand him a golden ticket to an Ivy League university – all expenses paid, but unless he WANTS to pursue academics, it would be a waste.
Tonight, my sons eyes lit up and I saw in him a ‘want’. A want that I can totally get behind.
My mom just returned from England. She was visiting my Nannie who just turned 90.
I was born in Windsor, England. Lived there until 1980, when we immigrated to the US.
Before that move, my mom and I traveled. We went from France to India cross-country. That deserves a post of its own. But suffice it to say, I experienced A LOT. We were crossing borders before they shut them down, Argo had nothing on us.
I digress.
Nics eyes were shining. We had been to my moms to collect the bits and pieces she brought back for us.
Photo time!
The English sweets I requested.
Nic with the Union Jack he requested
Me counting the English currency left over. No, I didn’t get to keep it.
Now look at this photo – this was taken around the corner from my house.
It says ‘Get Out’. I don’t know why. I don’t know who sprayed that on there. I’m sure there’s an interesting story behind the tagging.
Get Out.
Back to Nics shining eyes.
I still have a lot of family in England. And friends.
Nic has said before that he wants to go to the UK.
He’ll be graduating High School in May. My mom will be returning to England in July-ish.
I will be getting paperwork for a passport.
I will be saving every penny I can save.
I will push Nic out of this desert nest and into my home country.
I want him to have an experience. I want him to make some memories. I want him to be submerged in other cultures, other languages, other ideas and lifestyles. Nic wants this too.
I imagine him traveling to France, perhaps staying in a Hostel. (Hopefully not one out of that horror movie!)
Meeting family members he’s never met before. Spreading his wings and figuring out what he wants next.
I will miss him. I don’t want him just going for a few weeks – I want him to take complete advantage of being overseas.
I WANT to miss him. I want him to return (if that’s what he chooses) and have a purpose. Not be stagnant in a small town and enrolled in community college, while vying for one of a few part-time jobs in this area.
Hopefully, he’ll return with memories of adventures and an idea of what he wants to be and how he wants to achieve that. And I’ll support whatever that is too.
My mind is reeling trying to think of how to make this happen for him. What can I sell? How can I save? I will do this.
I will do it as if his life depends upon it – because in a lot of ways, it does.
3, 2, 1 … Wait! Stop!
The day after Christmas reminded me of the way my house used to feel after a party. Back when I had such things. Rooms peppered with gift remnants, me stepping over boxes and paper, dessert type foods left to dry out on the counter tops. Hoping everyone had a great time and dreading the task of taking down the decorations and cleaning up. A part of me glad it’s over for 1 more year.
3 days after Christmas and all I had the energy to take down were the cards. My advent calendars stood baring their empty molds through wide open doors.
I cleaned up this weekend. I have another holiday affording me time off to do so – New Years.
A lot has happened this year … I think of the highlights. My son got his driver’s license, I started this blog, I got a new-to-me car, my son had his first accident in aforementioned new-to-me car. There was Homecoming, ‘end of the world’ survival and right around the corner is 2013.
2013 is going to be a big year. Nic will turn 18, there will be prom and graduation (omg … GRADU-Flipping-ATION!). I’m not ready. I shall cling to this remaining day of 2012 like a toddler on its parents leg.
The unknown is waiting. I don’t do well with ‘the unknown’.
I had a another taste of things to come last night. Nic spent the night out and I was finishing a disturbing book. I squinted at the clock on my bedside table and it was nearing midnight. I’m not afraid of the dark (anymore) and I’m not afraid of ghosts (anymore) but there’s something about ‘the strike of midnight’ that makes me feel like I should have my eyes squeezed shut and not witness it. A macabre Cinderella complex if you will.
I wanted to finish my book though – so I did. Butters growled at something I hadn’t heard. That’s always disconcerting – the low rumble of concern from a creature with hearing much more than you’re capable of picking up.
I was alone in the house and at the tail end of a cold. I had spent the better part of two days thinking when I wasn’t reading.
I even wrote a letter to a friend. A real one, you know, with a writing utensil and paper.
I’m feeling nostalgic about the past 17 3/4 years and while I’m grateful and mostly content – there’s something in me on the verge of panic.
I’ve been looking around me lately and finding things I feel are lacking. My furniture is sparse, even in relation to the small rectangle I call home. Anything I had of value I sold. I don’t regret it, but there’s nothing here I’d pass down through my family.
I think about my job – the job I am blessed to have. But I have no health insurance, no 401K. Am I destined to be a greeter at Wal-Mart when I’m into my 60’s? Never being able to retire?
I thought about being alone. Yesterday I noticed my left front tire needed air and a fleeting thought ‘I have no one to ask to do that for me’. It’s always me – doing everything. Alone.
I thought about my health.
I thought about just about everything.
Have I done enough? Have I provided enough? Have I taught enough?
With 2013 looming I’m coming a little unhinged. Not losing my marbles, just examining them.
I cleaned my sons room last night – found remnants of his childhood in the form of Pokemon cards and old school work. Clothes that used to fit him are now in a box for Goodwill.
No one explained this part of life to me. I’ve heard countless times about worrying when your child is sick, worrying when your child is not home. No one mentions how it feels when your child is on the cusp of no longer being a child.
Yes, I’ve heard of empty nest syndrome. But, I didn’t realize how all-consuming the weight of that impending life event could be.
I’ve always had one constant – being Nic’s mom. I still will be. But it won’t define me. Perhaps it never should have. But it did. That was my thing that I treasured. My role I never once wanted to give up. My drive. My Raison d’être.
A part of me wants to press pause – to stop time. That part of me is selfish. Nic has so much in front of him to look forward to. I’ll be a part of it, God willing. I’ll cheer him on from the sidelines – always be there should he need me.
As for me? This marble examination will pass. I’ll find my center again – I always do. I have faith, gratitude, hope and love in my heart. Those things, once planted, don’t stop growing because time passes. I won’t let them.
Tonight I’ll ring in the New Year with sparkling cider and savor the last “3, 2, 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!’ with my ‘boy’.
Next year – who knows? He may choose to spend the 3,2,1 with me instead of being at a party, or with a girlfriend or … OR maybe I’ll be at a party? Who knows.
A taste of ’empty nest’
My bird is spreading his wings.
I find myself alone on a school night while he enjoys an evening with a friend. I’ve been catching glimpses lately of ‘life sans bird’.
I’ve wished sometimes I could go back in time and speak to the younger me, warn of pitfalls, give sage advice and offer tips for succeeding in ‘life’. But I wouldn’t have listened to me – who am I kidding, and really, who would I be if I hadn’t made my mistakes?
It’s with this knowledge that I know I can’t save my son from making his own mistakes. And would it really be ‘saving’ – after all, we only grow from experience.
He’s going to get his heart broken. He’s going to break a heart. He’ll find himself in precarious situations and he’ll know disappointment and loss.
My hope is that I have made an impression on him. That he’s seen through example that gratitude, hard work and faith can make life so beautiful. My hope is that adversity will not stop him from flying and that he ends up soaring.
Every day I tell him “I love you” and every day we laugh. I apologize when I’m wrong or when I’m sour.
I’m so excited to watch him become the man he’s meant to be! It’s like reading a book that you love from the very first page. Not wanting to put it down – savoring every word and every chapter!! The best part though, God willing, is unlike a book – I’ll see my favorite character continue to grow and be a part of his story.
I can’t describe with adequate words how very much I love my bird. From the moment I heard “It’s a son!” My first word to him “Hi” (lol) I’ve been in love. I watch him with wonderment.
Whoever he decides to be, whatever path he decides to take – I’m truly blessed to have had the privilege of even knowing him.
I am my favorite person in the whole world’s mother. What a gift!
I’ll be OK when the nest is empty – because I’m not lonely alone. I like myself. I hope that example most of all has made an impression on him. I think it has. Pretty sure I’ve raised a young man who is comfortable in his own skin.
Blessed.
Debauchery Soup 