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Happy Birthday Nicholas

“Twenty years is, after all, a long time.  We are not the same people we were.  Old friends, lovers, even family members; they are strangers who happen to wear a familiar face.  We have no right to claim to know anyone after such a distance …” – Graham Joyce from Some Kind of Fairy Tale

But I do know my son.  There has been no distance. 

I’ve had some people say to me, “Let him grow up!” As if I haven’t been.  Or, “Get your own life” as if I haven’t had one.  

Yet, if they found themselves before someone who was suddenly without their partner after 18 years of a constant shared life – would those be the same sentiments offered?  “Let them go!”  “Get your own life now!”

I would hope not.

Even someone who just lost their pet after so much time would be treated kinder than that. 

I know I am not losing my son – but this is the beginning of the end of how things have been for many, many years.  And before long, I won’t have the right to say I know him.  Not the way I do now. 

And that’s as it should be.  I know this.  I am not stupid.

He was never mine, after all, I merely had the honor of raising him for the world.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes.  But I can with utmost certainty look back at my life and my son will never have been one of them.

It has just been he and I for most of these 18 years.  And he was my life.  Shouldn’t a child be a parents number one priority? 

Not putting myself first led me to a happier heart and a wiser soul.  I’ll never understand why some children are born into the world to be tolerated and not adored. 

Nic was my purpose.  And being his mom is my pleasure, not some thief of my own time.  

From the moment I felt him kick and hiccup – I loved my baby.  I did not want to know the sex. Upon hearing “It’s a son” in the hospital room, March 31st, 1995, I became Nicholas Avery Charles’ mother. 

What an amazing experience it’s been! 

I remember when I was little wanting to be an archeologist – perhaps a teacher – a writer – a rock star?  My interests changed as I grew, but the one constant was knowing I wanted to be somebody’s mom.

This is so hard! My sixth attempt at this post.  I haven’t been able to find the right words! 

I so wanted this to be the post I look back on as my best.  I am writing this to the most important person in my life after all.

I tried just typing, but got so caught up in memories I couldn’t do them justice.

Weighed the options of humor or  taking the mushy route and waxing poetic …

Then while reading, the quote I opened with sent me back to the computer.

So, let’s begin.

Nicholas Avery Charles – today you are 18.

You’re on the precipice of something great.  You’ll make your way and your own decisions – but you’ll never be alone.  I will always be here for you. 

I will never stop being your mom.

Never stop wishing the best for you.

Never stop supporting your dreams and goals. 

I love you so very much bird.

I’ll try really hard NOT to use the following sentence: “If you want to be treated like an adult, you had better start acting like one!”  I hated that. 

You don’t suddenly go to bed 17, liking video games, anime and being catered to then wake up 18 with brand new interests and a sudden overnight maturity. 

I want to tell you Thank you.  Because what you’ve given me just by existing is the largest love I’ve ever known and the most educational experience I’ve ever had, and the strongest bond I’ve ever had with another human being.

Thank you for being my memories, my todays and my hope for the future.  I look at you and know that the world will be just fine with people like you in it.

I hope you enjoy the rest of your teens – it’s so odd isn’t it?  Technically an adult, still a teenager.  It’s hard to know what is expected of you.  Well, I personally expect nothing of you.  You are right where you are supposed to be, being just who you are meant to be. 

There is no right way to be 18. 

Make some memories, dream and try not to do anything you’ll wish you could erase upon looking back.

Read books.

Listen to your heart.

Expand your mind.

Have compassion and try not to judge.

Smile and know, you are enough.

Because you are – and you always have been.

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And hey …  1,2,3’s and I know you’re not 15 … but I hear this song and think of you.  Love you so very very very very much.  – Mom. xxxxx

Things I learned this week

  • I need to blog more

 

  • You can’t see a falling star unless you’re looking at the sky. I used to see one every night – when did I stop looking?

 

  • I can still squeal like an 8-year-old girl.  I came across this creature at work.  My first reaction was squeal and shut door.  My second?  Get someone to come with me so I could photograph it.  Over 6 inches w/tail flat! 

 

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  • It’s okay to accept help when it’s on behalf of someone you love.  This one was a tough one for me.  But I’ve realized due to simple math, that there’s no way in heck I can save up the money myself to send Nic to the UK.  I’d sell an organ to get him there if I could!  But I’ve taken a softer, gentler route and tried saying “Yes, thank you” when friends have offered to help.  A first for me.

 

  • When it rains, it pours. After having my tooth pulled, another one broke.  And when it rains, friends come out with umbrellas
  • Sometimes when a dog ‘scoots’, they do not have worms, but it doesn’t hurt to give them a chewable deworming tablet anyway
  • I have had a musical influence on my son.  As I hear Dave Matthews pouring out of his room as I type.  I have also made an impression on my son – as last night he and I spoke a while about deep things.  Apparently he gives my mothering a thumbs up.  I could have cried.  (And offered him an organ.)
  • Punctuation goes inside parenthesis, which makes my OCD want to go back over every single post and fix it! 
  • I have an amazing life.  Beautiful friends and am so so SO proud to be my sons mom. 

 

 

Step 1 of Operation send NIC to the UK

Downloaded, completed and printed passport application.

I have decided to tell myself “Nic is going to England”.

No ‘maybe’, no ‘if I can’.

“Success is sequential, not simultaneous” it says on a white board in our office building …  One step at a time for a goal I’ve already decided WILL be realized. 🙂

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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!

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The English sweets I requested.

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Nic with the Union Jack he requested

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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. 

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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. 

Picking up my basket

Last couple of days have been kitten-on-crack crazy! 

To put it plainly, I dropped my basket.  (If you’ve read Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood you know what I mean by that).

The rift between my son and I, over the most ridiculous matter – fed itself with silence and grew.  And grew.  And grew.

Yesterday morning had me inelegantly dropping a toaster strudel and it’s plate onto his bed (I’m SO mature) and lead to him leaving without a hug or a goodbye.

So I spent yesterday at work in a daze. Physically ill.  A little crying jag at my desk.

My last blog post is staying.  It’s exactly how I felt at the time.  Drama Queen sash please.  And a little crown too?

This parenting stuff is HARD!  I would literally give my life for this human that has the ability to mortally wound me with one cutting look.

Bonkers.  Teddy Bonkers!

I came home to a boy behind closed-door again.  I was so … sad.  I crossed the line in the sand (his threshold) and went in.

I’ll spare you and my son all the in-between bits – but at one point I was told (well, technically he wasn’t talking to me, so I was IM’d) the sentence that I had made it almost 18 years without hearing. “I’ll move out as soon as I can”. 

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Now, I don’t want to stereotype, but I imagine most parents upon hearing that would chuckle to themselves and wish their offspring ‘good luck’, while knowing deep down their birds were not going to actually leap from the nest.

Not me.

Nope.

That sentence shot through me like a bullet.  My gut suddenly had a brick placed in it.  My eyes welled up and I furiously typed back in response to my sons words.  (Yeah, we’ve really come to that.  Typing to each other).

Fast forward to him cautiously coming out of his room after I fell apart and told him he has never ever, ever been told he had to move out – (man did he play me like a fiddle xbox!) and we mended our bridge.

I hugged him tight – tears streaming down my face, and I’m gulping air like … I’m not sure what gulps air??  You get the picture.  As I sobbed “don’t SAY that – don’t ever SAY that” it dawned on me I was wound around his little finger tighter than unbreakable thread.  (It’s apparent to me now that I’m going to need to buy a house … with a basement for my 40-year-old. Because whether he wants to take flight or not – I’m clearly not up to it).

The relief at the disappearance of the tension in the air was palpable.

We both joked and laughed.  Then his joking got a little cocky.  Then a little rude … and I looked at my almost-a-man boy and asked, with wet cheeks and racoon eyes:

“I thought the flu was going around, not asshole?”