Wednesday, May 09, 2007


Supah Stah sent me a text message early this morning: "Oh, Saskatchewan, how flat thou art..." Anyone who has driven across the prairies is nodding their head right now. I really wanted to text back: "Just as flat as it was when you were stretched out in the backseat, wearing your iPod and playing Gameboy, only stopping to fight with your sisters or ask if we had any good food. Hah! How do you like me, now?" Instead, I sent the brilliant response, "Yep. Sucks, huh?"

With every text he sends, I'm delighted to know he's okay, but it's just killing me not to say, "I told you so."

He chose to drive the route that took him through the States, and the border guards went through his car with a fine tooth comb...even wanted to unwrap the prezzies I'd sent for Jelly Bean and Oz. "Can you believe that?"

Wait. I'm going to have to think about this one. Canada/US border, 3:30 AM, lone 18 year old, dark complected, brunette male who hasn't shaved for 3 days, indistinguishable belongings jammed into every possible crevice of vehicle, trying to enter the United States. And they asked questions? Shocking.

"Do you have any idea how expensive gas is?" Hold on, let me check the MasterCard statement, because I haven't a clue.

"Thanks for packing that food for me. It really saved me a lot of cash." How odd. It was supposed to be more expensive than fast-food on the highway.

"I'm having a great time!" Me? Hardly noticed you're gone.

Man, I hate this. I don't know how to let go gracefully. Do I think I've done a good job raising him and he's able to take care of himself? Yes. Do I know this is the natural order of life? Yes. Do I know I'll survive? Yes. But I miss him so much, I actually cried when we got off the phone tonight. What a dork. AND he's staying in touch more than I have a right to expect, so I feel doubly stupid. Know what I hate worst of all? I'm such a frikin' cliche.

I am every young man's nightmare MOM, whining in a public forum, about how hard it is to watch my baby bird taking flight.

As I write this, he's having a few drinks with my brother...a first for them...and I made his uncle promise to keep the hookers to single digits. I can't repeat what he said...but oh, how they laughed at me.


Anonymous said...

I'm probably going to be the opposite... My bro is a Mommy's boy (Mommy likes it that way)and.... at 35... I think we can do things for ourself....

He'll be fine Mom.... Let's see at 17 I spent the summer in Gogama, at 18 I spent the summer in Wawa...


SINFUL said...

Take over his closet - put table linens in his chest of drawers and gift wrap and ribbon in his dresser. Enjoy the space and BAM . . . he'll be back!

It's harder to lose the boys because a life time of experience with men tells you that they can not take care of themselves. Then there's the whole . . . "your first baby" and the piece of your heart that leaves with him. Sucks. Sorry!!