The 1-2-3-4 punch
3.22.09
We had a nice last evening together last night. Alex, Sean, and I — get this — went out to a club(!) to hear some folks we know performing. I have to say that I was flattered that Sean chose to spend his last spring-break evening with his old mom and dad.
This morning Sean and I went to church, had lunch together, bought him some supplies, and then came back home to pack him up and take him back to Chad. We took his bike and his clean laundry and all of the new clothes and supplies that we’d bought… and then it was time to say goodbye.
I thought I’d be all right. Didn’t I say so just yesterday? He tried to be upbeat and cheerful — and even admitted that that’s his strategy to help prevent me from crying — but it didn’t work. I’m afraid that I rather let fly right there in the parking lot. And you know what? I really didn’t care who saw me. There were other parents and students coming and going, and I knew they’d relate, even if they didn’t make spectacles of themselves right then and there. I’m also afraid that I made Sean feel bad — as though it was somehow his fault — but of course it was just me being me and having a weepy day. Punch one.
Then I went grocery shopping and thought I’d calm down at least. I did, but I still felt pretty melancholy, and I hoped that the pharmacist couldn’t tell that I’d been crying. I took everything home and found Alex in the throes of realizing that he had more to do than he could possibly get done before he had to catch his plane back to his out-of-state job. I’ll spare you the ugly details, but that’s when I chose to get snarly with Claire over an earlier situation. So, now instead of one of us crying, we had two of us crying. What was I thinking?! Punch two.
I cried my way through putting away the groceries and making salads, and Alex had to leave right about then — that’s how these things tend to happen in the movies and in real life. So, off he went to the airport, afraid that he’d miss his plane. Punch three.
“Okay,” I thought, “I’ll busy myself with putting things away and tidying the house and doing the laundry and answering e-mails”… but one of those e-mails led me into Sean’s room to look for something in his closet, and… OUCH! Punch four! I did not see that one coming.
You know that kick in the teeth that you get when you’ve taken your child back to campus, and then you go back home all sad and go into his/her room? And you find all of the bits of things that s/he left behind? Well, I shouldn’t have gone in there. Too much to deal with right then in my condition.
But, I figured that as long as I was such a train wreck anyway, I might as well wallow in it and be productive at the same time: I picked up the clothes he’d left behind that he wouldn’t be wearing anymore; took his bathrobe and towel to wash; picked up the deodorant he’d borrowed, and the empty tissue box (darn — I could have used that!), and the bits of paper, and the unexplained pile of pennies, and the bags of pretzels that he thought he wanted but apparently didn’t, and the grocery bag of stuff that he’d brought home from his dorm room…
I’ll dispense with it slowly. I need a break right now.
This morning Sean and I went to church, had lunch together, bought him some supplies, and then came back home to pack him up and take him back to Chad. We took his bike and his clean laundry and all of the new clothes and supplies that we’d bought… and then it was time to say goodbye.
I thought I’d be all right. Didn’t I say so just yesterday? He tried to be upbeat and cheerful — and even admitted that that’s his strategy to help prevent me from crying — but it didn’t work. I’m afraid that I rather let fly right there in the parking lot. And you know what? I really didn’t care who saw me. There were other parents and students coming and going, and I knew they’d relate, even if they didn’t make spectacles of themselves right then and there. I’m also afraid that I made Sean feel bad — as though it was somehow his fault — but of course it was just me being me and having a weepy day. Punch one.
Then I went grocery shopping and thought I’d calm down at least. I did, but I still felt pretty melancholy, and I hoped that the pharmacist couldn’t tell that I’d been crying. I took everything home and found Alex in the throes of realizing that he had more to do than he could possibly get done before he had to catch his plane back to his out-of-state job. I’ll spare you the ugly details, but that’s when I chose to get snarly with Claire over an earlier situation. So, now instead of one of us crying, we had two of us crying. What was I thinking?! Punch two.
I cried my way through putting away the groceries and making salads, and Alex had to leave right about then — that’s how these things tend to happen in the movies and in real life. So, off he went to the airport, afraid that he’d miss his plane. Punch three.
“Okay,” I thought, “I’ll busy myself with putting things away and tidying the house and doing the laundry and answering e-mails”… but one of those e-mails led me into Sean’s room to look for something in his closet, and… OUCH! Punch four! I did not see that one coming.
You know that kick in the teeth that you get when you’ve taken your child back to campus, and then you go back home all sad and go into his/her room? And you find all of the bits of things that s/he left behind? Well, I shouldn’t have gone in there. Too much to deal with right then in my condition.
But, I figured that as long as I was such a train wreck anyway, I might as well wallow in it and be productive at the same time: I picked up the clothes he’d left behind that he wouldn’t be wearing anymore; took his bathrobe and towel to wash; picked up the deodorant he’d borrowed, and the empty tissue box (darn — I could have used that!), and the bits of paper, and the unexplained pile of pennies, and the bags of pretzels that he thought he wanted but apparently didn’t, and the grocery bag of stuff that he’d brought home from his dorm room…
I’ll dispense with it slowly. I need a break right now.
