He left, and I was left in a sea of crazy emotions. Yeah, yeah ~ when am I NOT in a sea of crazy emotions, I know. But in my attempt to just "continue forward" - in this season of "one foot in front of the other", I think I failed to prepare myself for the next step after. You know, the one that follows the getting them where they have to go and waving goodbye. I didn't think about that, I didn't process that, at least not really, until the moment was actually upon me.
We have been talking about church camp for a while at our house. He mentioned it this winter and I decided to just dive in and sign him up. Don't look at the price, don't think about the possible battle to get him there, along with the probable home-sickness... Just sign him up before he's suddenly turning twenty-one and you never did get around to signing him up, never did give him the opportunity to add that life experience to his journey. Yes, that may have been exactly what happened with my older son. I was a single mom during some of those years, and then the mom to an incredibly cranky high needs baby as he drifted from pre-teen to teen to adult. I never sent my oldest to camp, and yes, I carry mom guilt about that.
I went to church camp several times growing up. While I don't remember it exactly, I do have several memories that I still hold near and dear. One of which was a night candle lighting service that left my little awkward nine or ten year old self a mess of tears as I opened my heart and soul to God's calling. I grew up in a Christian home, I don't have a major ahh-haa Christ moment, but that night at camp is one of the first memories I had of feeling that undeniable stirring of the Holy Spirit deep within me at grand and significant level. I can even tell you what pajamas I wore to bed that night, and I have no idea why.
I've always said our ten year old is predictably unpredictable. He is like clockwork with his total unpredictability. It keeps us on our toes and keeps us in a usually state of exhaustion as we try to navigate life attempting to stay just a few inches ahead of him, yet always coming up a few feet behind.
We've struggled a little with attachment and control issues, and yet deep in that fragile inner core, surrounded by his irritability and grumpiness, is one who still loves to be home, still loves his blankie, and still always ends up sleeping in our camper despite his every attempt and desire to sleep over in the tent with his friend.
I guess I subconsciously tried to put off thinking about it, we talked about it but didn't really "talk" about it. He's a little tricky that way. You can't bring things up too far in advance because he will manifest and get stuck on it, but you can't wait to long to start talking about it or he will end up in a tailspin of unpreparedness. He knew camp week was coming up, he knew a few other boys in his class that were going, but that's about it. Until this weekend, then there was more and more questions, and comments, and last night we had to dig out the pepto tablets for his stomach ache.
He did finally succumb to sleep late last night and part of me wanted to quietly sneak off to work this morning before he was up, and part of me didn't. But he woke up himself a few minutes before I headed out. I did all I could to not let his morning grumpies make me have morning grumpies in return, but of course we did in fact have a few grumpy exchanges about eating breakfast, brushing teeth, making the bed, and for the fiftieth time child please leave the dogs alone!
I slid next to him on the couch before leaving, I knew he was anxious. Silently battling the fear of the unknown, the trauma of choosing not to take his beloved "blankie" along, packing "back-up blankie" instead, and a million other rabbit trails of thoughts and questions and what-ifs that were circling at record speed within his little mind. I kept waiting for the tears and the pleading "I don't want to go..." to start, but they didn't. He sat there bravely, knowing the clock was ticking - within a few hours he would be off on this big adventure.
The morning didn't quite go as planned and there ended up being little drama and scramble to get him where he needed to be, but he surprised us yet again as he waved his goodbye and headed out with two other boys from our town as their brave mama buckled up and headed in the direction of the camp, about an hour away.
I sat at my desk at work, wielding texts and phone calls and trying to remotely pick up pieces that didn't quite fall together as we had planned. And then I got a text and selfie from the hubs - he was dropped off and all went well, and I looked deep into the smiling selfie of the two of them. There had been no crying, no hanging on his arm to go along, to stay a little longer, to just... to just... to just...
I admit I was rather surprised, but also happy and relieved. And then I set my phone down and was suddenly overtaken by this sea of emotions.
For the first time I processed the reality that he might actually be gone all week this week. Granted the phone might ring in the next five minutes and change that reality, but for now... he is in fact there, checked in, and at camp an hour away... doing it all by himself.
I found myself feeling this odd tug of sadness, realizing that I am going to actually miss him, a lot. Then there was the tiny thread of excitement over the fact that he might in fact be gone all week! One whole week of not having to get him up, feed him, get his shoes on, get him in the car, argue with him, get him in the shower, get him in bed for the night. Which of course was immediately met by guilt. Surely moms are not supposed to feel excitement over things like that (and if we do we are surely never supposed to admit them out loud!). And woven in was the mom guilt for never sending my oldest to camp and now it's too late for that, and feeling mom guilt that someone else was driving my child to camp and checking him in and turning in all his meds and all the mail I pre-prepared for him to receive this week (and yes, I sent candy in all the envelopes, sorry camp counselors, but honestly, candy is that child's love language!) In that moment I had mom guilt for changing jobs a few weeks ago and not having any PTO to be able to take him there myself, and wife guilt because the hubs got the call and had to drop everything and help avert the crisis. And then I was upset that he sat home most of the morning, alone with all his thoughts and worries and anxieties. Oh mylanta.
Ugh. All of that (and more) cycled through my brain, and my heart, and my system, in literally less than ten seconds. I felt the tears sting my eyes and my throat tighten. I tried to breath and process all the explosions of feelings and thoughts going on inside me all at once, and there I sat at my desk, watching emails with orders and questions continue to pop into my work inbox.
I blinked and breathed. I blinked a little faster trying to hold back the tears.
This all shouldn't be so hard. This all shouldn't have to be so over-thought, over-felt, over-processed, over-dramatized. This ... as in ... life. Parenting. Loving. Leaving. Learning. Holding them close. Letting them spread their wings. Wanting them near. Wanting them not near at all. Wanted to be wanted. Wanted to be not wanted. Praying for peace, and sleep, and kindness from the other boys around him. I'm not there tonight to watch him fall asleep, I'm not there this week to intervene if he's being teased (or if he's the one doing the teasing, heaven forbid). I'm not there to make sure he respects his peers and his counselors. I'm not there to make sure his meds get taken, that he showers, that he brushes his teeth, that he eats, that he changes his underwear at least once this week, that he packs everything he brought to bring back home...
I am not there, and he is not here.
And that is a part of life. That is part of growing up, part of letting go.
All these crazy emotions swirling and overtaking me inside are both good and bad, happy and sad, joy filled and sorrowful. I hate the layer of guilt that always always always lines my heart and mind, but I love the tenderness within as I felt that first real pang of knowing how much I'm going to actually miss him.
I cannot even begin to describe the depth of my pride in him right now. This was big time stuff going on today. He was anxious, he was nervous, he was scared. But he didn't let that be stronger than his will to take on this new adventure. He didn't let it hold him back from taking a few huge steps forward. He chose brave, and he totally rocked it.
I have no idea if he'll make it through the night tonight, through the day and night tomorrow, or if he'll make it all the way to Friday afternoon when my parents will be taking my place to pick him up and hear all about how it went and see all that he did and meet all his friends.
But what I do know, is that I am surprised and beyond proud of that crazy little ten year old of ours right now. And I need to be sure to remind myself of this exact moment when he walks back in the house with his pile of laundry and sleeping bag and suitcase that will never close correctly again in its lifetime, with his tired little body that will surly crash and burn once arriving safely back into his safe place... his safe place to fall apart, his safe place to be ugly and vulnerable and real. His safe place where he will always be loved, no matter what.
Because in this house, we love each other best when we are being our most unlovable selves. And that is the beauty of this family, and this house. It has not always been easy within these walls, but it's in moments like these, when the house is quiet and the peace has settled in around us after another crazy day, that I breathe deep and know I am blessed.
We hold them close and hang on tight during this crazy parenting ride of our lives. They fall apart, we fall apart. They grow up, we grow up. They choose brave, we choose brave. And suddenly one day they aren't babies any more, or toddlers, or elementary aged, or pre-teens, or even teenagers... One day you look up and you're looking into the face of a young adult (and if you think parenting children is hard, oh dear me, we won't even talk about the struggle of parenting adult children - that's an entire other blog post all it's own ~lol). Just be sure to take the time to stop, and see, and feel, and fully experience and embrace all the myriad of emotions, feelings, and reactions. We only get this one life, this one short life... open your arms wide and embrace it all, good and bad.
Live and love and find your brave. Live and love and don't miss theirs, even if it's not ideal, not best case scenario, not exactly how you had planned it out, because I guarantee, it's in those exact moments that God's plans are in fact the perfectly planned plans.
And working moms, and stay-at-home moms, it's totally ok to go cry your eyes out in the restroom on days like today. And whether you are home, or at work, we are all guaranteed to never get the privacy of getting to be in a restroom alone... there will always be little fingers under the door or someone in the stall next to us, but go ahead and cry, this mom thing is a hard gig to juggle. ;-)
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