I usually have little trouble pouring out my heart to you, but today, things are a little different.
I just came home from moving my sweet Rooster into his dorm for his first year of college, and I forced myself to face these…
Those are my babies’ empty bedrooms.
They are the cause of my current angst.
I know this is a rite of passage that children and parents must eventually go through, but it’s painful, nonetheless.
I’m finding myself breathing deeply to calm myself down when the sad feelings overwhelm me.
Earlier, I was struck by the irony of this.
When going through childbirth, I breathed deeply to get through the physical pain.
Tonight, I’m struggling to deal with the emotional pain of change.
The breathing exercises that delivered my babes into my arms are the same exercises that will result in a separation of lives as my babies push on, move out, and develop their individual, adult selves.
I’m still processing the sadness, and I’m crying…a lot.
I’m sure I’ll feel a little better in the morning, but right now, I’m not going to fight the feelings.
I’m just going to breathe deeply, let the tears flow, and wait until tomorrow to share the fun that we did have when we took Rooster to school (I may be sad, but I’m still cognizant of the fact that, overall, it was a wonderful two days that was not marred by the sadness that lurked around the corner).
I can hear Molly and Pele breathing deeply as they dream sweet puppy dreams.
I should be dreaming too, but alas, I find sleep to be elusive tonight.
This is the last evening for a while that my Rooster will be tucked into bed under my roof.
We leave in a few short hours, making the several-hour-drive to Auburn, where we will stay for the evening before helping him move into his dorm tomorrow.
He’s been packing for a couple of weeks…
I had to chuckle when I saw his toiletries on the bathroom counter…
Boys don’t need much to keep themselves groomed, it would seem.
I’ve got my own toiletries laid out as well, ready for the second college-dropoff-trip in two weekends in a row…
I’m going to ride with Rooster as we caravan to Auburn. I’m looking forward to the last few hours I’ll have him to myself.
I’ll have my knitting and the fourth Harry Potter book I’m halfway through with, but I suspect I won’t pay attention to either of them.
I have a sneaky suspicion I’ll be studying Rooster’s profile, on the down-low, of course, marveling at the fact that when he began school many moons ago, it was I who sat in the driver’s seat while he was along for the ride.
I have a lot of emotions coursing through my heart right now, and I’m fighting desperately to maintain control of myself.
I love my children fiercely.
It’s a bittersweet time. While I’m preparing to be sad, I cannot help but be excited at the new adventures that await my boy.
Just as Chicky took flight three years ago, so shall he.
I’ve got Kleenex, and as I continue to ponder my thoughts, I’ll discretely wipe my eyes as needed.
I’m having a moment…the kind when I see my children heading out the door, and I want, desperately, to hold onto them a little longer.
As I’ve listened to Chicky pack her stuff, and as I’ve chatted with Rooster after he’s come in late from spending time with friends, my heart grows wistful, and the tears begin to flow.
How can it be that this, my third year of being the mother of college-enrolled children, is proving to be as difficult as the first year?
I cannot explain it.
It’s not as if I don’t have other activities to keep me occupied.
I am about to begin year three of teaching.
I think that as I prepare to say goodbye to Rooster for what will be his first extended absence, I am reminded of the first time I delivered Chicky to school.
Sigh…
That was a difficult adjustment.
I really do not want to go through this again.
Maybe I can blame the late hour.
Maybe it’s PMS.
More likely, I’m just another mom who loves being around her children…cannot, in fact, get enough time with them.
It’s moments like these when I wish I could stretch time…perhaps even rewind it a bit to when my babies were actually babies.
But time doesn’t stand stand still, pressing ever forward.
Meanwhile, a mama (me) goes to bed feeling bittersweet about the passage of time and the fact that there’s not one thing I can do to slow it down, pause it, or stop it completely.
I live in Florida where it rains nearly every day during the summer.
The weather didn’t dampen my spirits today, though, because my Chicky came home, bringing with her a spark of sunshine.
First, we watched the US Women’s soccer team beat Columbia…
After the game, we went out for a bit of fun, first hitting Starbucks up for some yummies.
Then, we went to the nail salon, where we settled in for some pampering.
I wanted to treat Chicky to some feet-lovin’ before soccer season makes them nasty again.
Chicky settled for coral, while I had to have the sparkly purple…
While our toes were drying, Chicky asked if I wanted to get my nails done. She even told me she’d treat me!
My nails are short right now because I took off my acrylic tips in June to allow my nails to breathe. Still, I thought about it and decided that getting my cuticles taken care of would be good. So, we selected our colors and sat down again.
I, loving all things sparkly, picked out the following color, which I thought would look good on my nails despite their short length…
I’m going to buy this. It matches my pink sparkly shoes…
Don’t you just love that name???
A funny thing happened as we were finishing up our manicures.
Before painting our nails, we are advised to go ahead and pay so we wouldn’t mess up our nails. I pulled out my billfold to pay for the pedicures, and then Chicky realized that she’d left her money at home.
I just had to roll my eyes. It was quite funny.
For the record, she’s going to transfer the money into my account.
Heehee
Our nails turned out beautiful, in my humble opinion, and we left quite the happy pair.
She’d wanted a French manicure, but her nails were too short. She’s a soccer player and doesn’t keep them very long. Still, they turned out pretty.
I love the way my nails twinkle…
After getting our nails done, we ran to Target, where we bought a card for one of her friends and I bought a bottle of Riesling wine, which I’d recently tasted and had become fond of.
Everything we did triggered interesting conversations…grown-up conversations.
My girl child…who has always been fiercely independent…is turning into a person who is finally starting to relate to me in a more mature manner.
I’ll be treasuring every moment we get to spend together this week.
The days will fly by, and before I know it, I’ll be helping her move in for yet another year of college.
I can’t help but hear the following song in my head as I think about our wonderful day, and I know memories of it will carry me through those moments of sadness when I’ll miss her so much.
My Chicky is not what you would call a “Mama’s Girl.”
Oh no.
From Day 1, she demonstrated that she was Little Miss Independent.
I kid you not.
She tried to refuse to nurse.
I cured that with the help of a lactation specialist.
She tried to decide what she was wearing to daycare…at the ripe old age of seven months.
We solved that by “helping” her pick out her clothes the night before.
While other moms were blessed with affectionate girls who eagerly shared “I love yous” and hugs with them, I was fighting battles with my girl child.
That independence is serving her well now that she’s in college, but I feel like I’ve missed out over the years.
What is nice, though, is watching as I’ve noticed a little phenomenon happening.
About a week before Chicky comes home for visits, she begins to text me.
Once or twice a day.
About random stuff.
Or she’ll call.
About random stuff.
She’ll never admit to it, nor will I reveal my observations to her face (I’m not sure if she’ll read it here though).
As a mom who hasn’t heard the words “I love you” from my girl in years and years, I absolutely eat up the communication that flies back and forth the week before she comes home.
It’s music to my soul, and it gives me hope that one day…sometime in the future…we’ll be close and that somehow…just maybe…I’ll hear the actual words I long to hear.
Until then, I’ll take satisfaction in what I know she’ll never admit to…
That some small part of her looks forward to coming home for those quick visits…
And that some small part of her knows that I’m here for her, no matter how much we annoy each other…and that I’d move heaven and earth to answer any and all questions.
Until she’s 30 and has children of her own, we’ll keep this info on the DL (down-low, for those of you who don’t speak teen-speak).
As you know, one of my town’s young ladies, Madison, was involved in a car accident on Friday evening.
As of this writing, her condition has changed very little, and the prognosis is still very grim.
I visited her family in the hospital yesterday…spending a few hours there.
Her parents are holding up as well as one can expect given the tragic circumstances.
There have been a few chuckles, despite the intense heartbreak.
Madison’s mom walked into the waiting area and announced that Madison came into this world two weeks late, and it wouldn’t surprise her if she held on a couple of extra weeks before departing.
I’ve also heard stories about how Madison was always late to everything, so it’s no surprise to those who know her best that her timing now isn’t any different.
The waiting is so hard, and the painful moments more intense than any I have ever witnessed.
The cries of anguish that I’ve seen and heard are heartbreaking.
Sigh.
I watched as Madison’s parents comforted one another in a corner of the waiting room. I pulled my eyes away in an attempt to respect their privacy. I cannot imagine having to live out their darkest hours in front of so many people…such raw emotions.
These are incredible people, though…so generous to share Madison with all of us.
Last night, my church held a service for the youth group…a time for them to honor Madison by sharing their favorite memories of her…a time for praying for her and her family…a time for comforting one another.
Like the previous night’s prayer vigil at the school’s gymnasium, the Gospel was preached by one of my church’s youth pastors.
It was INCREDIBLE!
I sat and watched as a room full of students sat in rapt attention as the Gospel of Jesus Christ was presented.
Three youngsters gave their hearts to Jesus during this time.
Tears rolled down my face as I considered that Madison’s accident may have been the catalyst for three more souls joining the family of God.
After the service, I watched as Madison’s friends wrote messages on posters…words that will one day bring comfort to her family…
It’s difficult to watch these youngsters grieve.
As we know, though, grief is a part of life, although it kind of stinks to have to grieve over someone so young.
What amazed me as I watched these students after the service was the way they comforted one another.
I watched as a group of five gentlemen gathered into a huddle, put their arms around each other, and prayed.
In fact, my jaw dropped.
I wanted to pull out my phone and snap a photo (blogger that I am), but I didn’t.
For two reasons.
1) My battery was almost dead, and
2) Despite the public venue, it was one of those private moments that a photo would have intruded upon.
Still, the image is burned into my mind.
As the minutes ticked by, I watched as these kids’ tears turned to laughs and, in true teenager fashion, they left…many of them smiling.
That is what Madison would have preferred because, as I’ve already mentioned before, she is a child with a quick smile and a hearty laugh.
As so we left…returning to our homes to continue praying for this young life that has touched so many…waiting for the Lord to do His thing…smiling to ourselves at the distinct possibility that Madison is choosing her own time to meet Him…probably using this time to plan her grand entrance into Heaven…true Madison style.
Oh, and before I forget, I want to share this song, which someone in town wrote and recorded in honor of Madison. He wrote it after reading a newspaper article about her accident.
This song bespeaks of how one life can touch another…especially a life as vibrant as Madison’s.
Thank you for the prayers you’ve been offering for Madison, the young woman I wrote about in my previous post.
As of this writing, her condition is about the same. I visited the hospital yesterday morning and received a grim greeting from her mother. The prognosis was still dire, and nobody was sure if she would make it past the day.
As such, the hospital began allowing those outside of her immediate family to visit her ICU room.
This ranks as one of the most difficult things I’ve ever done.
Saying goodbye to her mother as I left that room was equally as difficult. She and her husband were trying so hard to be strong, and she told me to, “Take care of Chicky and Guy Friend.”
Once again, she was thinking of others.
What do you say in response to that?
“I love you. I’m praying for you.”
That’s about all you can say.
Conversations flew back and forth in the waiting room and via phone calls after I’d left to spend time with my own crew at home.
I called my friend, Barb, who is very close to Madison’s family. She said that Madison’s mom had asked the organ donation specialist if they could donate Madison’s smile because it simply lit up a room.
Such a fitting thing to say.
Madison didn’t just smile with her lips, though. Her entire face lit up. Being quite the energetic child, her face could have lit up an entire city every time something struck her fancy!
Barb’s son made the comment that whoever gets Madison’s heart better have a huge chest.
True statement.
Madison is generous to a fault.
A prayer vigil was quickly organized, and all were welcome to attend. It was held at the high school Madison attended…where her parents teach.
The gym was full…to overflowing.
What a wonderful service as we were led in prayer. The Gospel was also presented.
There were a lot of hugs and tears as we reached out to one, drawn together by our collective love for Madison and her parents and brother.
If she could have seen it, she would have smiled…probably jumped in the middle of the floor and asked, in a loud voice, “Who started the party without me?”
Please continue to lift her family in your prayers. They still have some hard decisions to make but are trying to let things naturally play out.
Please pray the God will give them the strength and endurance they need to get through the next several days.
I know you’re trying to be smart by taking summer college classes. You even got free housing the first three weeks because you took a face-to-face class and that was the school’s reward.
I know you’re trying to be mature by getting a just-about-full-time-job and moving into an apartment with a friend for the last two months of school…just so that you’ll be able to graduate a semester early next year.
But…
And that is one large BUT, and I’m not talking the bootie-shaking kind…
I must tell you, emphatically, that no, it is not okay to ride your bike four miles to work…
At 4am…
Otherwise known as O’Dark’Thirty…
Just because you’re short of money and don’t want to ask us, your parents, to cover you until payday.
(Bet you weren’t planning on wearing a helmet either.)
Maybe you think this is a way you’ll show how grown up you are…taking care of your own problems…but as your mother, I see larger, potential problems if you follow through on such musings…
Like the plan-a-funeral kind of problem…
Because someone has kidnapped and done horrible things to my trying-to-be-a-big-girl Chicky.
That is why I am so glad that you happened to mention your plans to me yesterday on the phone, and I was able to stop you from carrying out this madness.
Please try to do something when making decisions of this sort:
Think like a mama.
Examine the issue from a mama’s eyes.
And ask yourself, “Is there potential for danger (I’m not talking the falling-out-of-bed kind)? Am I setting myself up for someone to do physical harm to me?”
If the answers to the questions are “Yes,” then step away from your proposed solution and call home.
That’s why I pay your cell phone bill.
So you can.
While using up our unlimited minutes.
Or send a text.
Or Facetime me.
Hey, now that’s a thought. Do Facetime so you can see my WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU THINKING OF face when you propose your plans.
That, my dear, is my lovingly administered advice for the day.
Didn’t I just bring you home from the hospital, all decked out in your Auburn finery?
You slept from 10pm – 4am the first night you were home, a good sleeper from the get-go…
It didn’t take long for you and Chicky to form a tight sibling bond. She even taught you the fine art of showing what’s in your mouth while you’re eating…
You liked to wear your food as much as you liked to eat it…
Though you didn’t walk as early as Chicky, you were still up and about well before your first birthday…
You put your good looks to use, easily charming the ladies…especially this one…your Mama…
Oh yes, those tow-headed, blue eyes often conned me into allowing you to get your way…
You were meant to be an Auburn Tiger from the beginning, as evidenced by the attire you came home in to the clothes you’ve proudly worn over the years…
We did buy you other clothes, but your preferred your Auburn gear…
The years flew by, and soon it was time to take you to school for your first day of kindergarten…
Today, on your 18th birthday, you could have walked the stage for your high school graduation. Though you won’t cross that stage in the made-for-parents event, I celebrate your accomplishments all the same.
Schooling came easily for you. God blessed you with a keen mind and a quick wit…things that helped you excel in school.
Soon, you’ll be heading to Auburn. In fact, you receive mail from the school almost daily now…
These envelopes make me tear up every time I pull them from the mailbox.
They are signs, you see, that my sweet, blonde-haired, blue eyed boy will be leaving the nest, the last of my chickies to fly the coop.
You, my dear, have been a dream to parent.
Every time you sat and watched a movie or TV show with me, you banked more Son Points into this heart of mine.
One of the sweetest things you said to me was on my birthday when you told me that you could have gone to a friend’s house, but you chose to stay home since next year you’ll be in school and won’t be able to celebrate with me.
Anyone reading this can see how easy it is to love you.
I’ve been praying for you since before you were born. Two months on bedrest gave me plenty of time for that.
I’ve been praying for you ever since, and God has been merciful to answer.
You have turned into a fine young man.
You are generous and always eager to lend a friend a hand.
Your gentleness with animals is reciprocated with their tendency to gravitate toward you.
As you begin this new phase of your life, I will continue to pray for you…for a steadfast faith that does not turn away no matter what temptations you may face…for Christian friends to surround you while you’re away from home…for maturity to adjust to the changes before you.
I love you with all of my heart. You are a blessing to me, and I am honored to be your Mama.
AuburnChick's Adventures 