Flew the Coop

Indoor game, Thursday 8:50 p.m.  Senior year, last kid at home.  My last year after twenty plus years of driving to gymnastics, wrestling, Taekwondo, swim team, and over 15 years of soccer.  As I braved the wind and flurries tonight to drive to the facility I really didn't have to push myself that hard, even knowing that as always I would join the other parents alone, singularly.  It gets better.  It still stings when I let it, but I've learned to keep all of that to myself - the humiliation of it all, a very public rejection.  Everyone else is used to it and I need to be too.

I really didn't have to push myself because now especially, I can see how precious these moments are.  I took a 45 second video of her on the field, just a snippet to hold onto.  I will attend my last indoor game forever in the coming weeks, and my last club game in a few short months, then my last high school graduation.  I sound like Eeyore.  I'm sure I will have to grieve the loss, just like all of the other lasts.  But that's ok, because there are always firsts too, and those can be pretty sweet.

She was just telling me a few minutes ago about how when she texts, she re-reads it and mouths the words as she does so, and her crazy friends tease her about it.  She asked me if I ever did that, one of her usual questions - does this ever happen to you?  (Am I normal?)  She was sitting at the computer, and I was standing over her, trying really hard not to watch 'The Bachelor'.  I despise the way that show trivializes relationships, but the drama pulls me in every time. 

She's eighteen now, long dark hair, a gaggle of girl and guy friends that she adores; top student, agile athlete, accomplished musician, shy and quiet but self confident.  She's the epitome of the young woman I always dreamed of being.  

I watch her mannerisms while she demonstrated her texting quirk to me, and in an instant I was pulled back to that time when she was a tow-headed, sometimes screaming Mimi, her face softened by ringlet curls.  Remember when they were little and you just looked at them in awe and with eager anticipation of who, how and what they would be when they grew up?  I was living that in reverse.  There she was, in the flesh, this beautiful young woman with the world at her feet.  

Thankfully I got to have similar but different flashes with my first and second born offspring.  I remember the last time my son ever spontaneously grabbed and held my hand.  We went for a rare walk in the neighborhood one evening, he was twelve.  We just talked about things, nothing I could remember, just that I would never forget that moment.  

A few years later when I learned that since turning eighteen he decided to smoke because he could, I took him for a walk on that same road and this time I took his hand, NOT telling him how devastated I felt because smoking is what killed his grandmother.  After a lot of prayer and talks with friends and my counselor, I ended up telling him that it was his choice, and there was nothing I could do about it, and that I didn't like it, but that he must never smoke in front of the girls and he will no longer be allowed to drive my car if he smoked in it.  That was six months after I found myself alone; a very tough time for both of us.  He is approaching 24 and is living a financially responsible and independent life; I'm proud of how he has grown.

With my first daughter, it was just all the time that we connected.  In fact sometimes I hear things I wish I hadn't.  No, I can't say that, she gives me the pulse of her generation and forces me not to judge.  I could never have told my mother the things she has shared with me, and I know that was because I felt so judged, something I am committed not to do with uncomfortable information.  Time for me to stop parenting and step back, and remember how I was at 21.  

When she was younger, before the divorce years, I would lie in bed next to her many nights as she went to sleep and she would talk to me, tell me her fears and frustrations.  So many memories.  She calls me regularly now, she's 21 and passionate about her school work and her future, and as a mother, I think one of the many great gifts she has given me that stands out, is her constant chant that her younger sister will always be her very best friend.  She doesn't have to worry about her friend troubles, because she's always got her baby sister.

I'm supposed to let them go, and they are supposed to jump out and make it; not just survive, but fly.  Just as when they took those first steps or that first bike ride, it involves some bumps and bruises.  If I can keep reminding myself to give them encouragement and not criticism, they'll keep coming back and sharing.  No more parenting!

Besides, I think I'm ready now.  That's what this writing is for.  I want to share what I have learned and learn what you have learned.  It'll be nice to have some company as I find my next true purpose.  It's like heading off to big-girl school where you get to stay and eat lunch and don't have to take a nap, ah the anxious anticipation and excitement!