I Didn't Know It Would Be The Last Time

A collection of thoughts from a mother in the throes of realizing that when her youngest goes to boot camp before his senior year in high school, a whole new phase has already begun. 17 years went by far too fast.

My Son, I didn't know it would be the last time that:

-  We'd go to Starbucks and review homework while homeschooling (and you'd be more interested in the light shorting out than a history lesson)

-  You'd beg me for a second ride on the toy airplane ride mounted outside Wal Mart that wiggles for 3 minutes when you put two quarters in the slot

-  The lobster tank in the grocery meat department would fascinate you (and I'd have to pry you away)

-  You would call me Mommie

-  You slipped your hand in mine as we walked through a parking lot

-  Getting tucked in was part of your night time routine

-  You climbed on my lap and held on to the bend of my elbow for comfort

-  We bartered about the number of  items you could pick out while grocery shopping with me

-  You would play with your Legos and Bionicles

-  We couldn't leave Target without a visit to the Toy Department

- You would would be mesmerized by an outdoor fountain and stomp around through the spray

- I had to make you take a shower

- I would find a bouncy ball, small car and a rock in your pants pocket

- You would ask for yet another stretchy rubbery animal

- You would find my stapler and pound away on Post-It notes until it jammed or ran out

- You would have to sit in the back seat

- I would walk you through the parking lot and tell you to watch for cars

- You would be eager to take something apart (#gasgrill)

- Climbing a tree was your day's mission

- We had a thoughtful discussion about what you would bring for Show & Tell (I loved that you told a joke one time in first grade - "Mom, it's show and tell!!")

- The Scooby Do pillow would be on your bed

- You would ask if someone could "come over and play"


As you are learning this summer - it's the small things that make precious memories from home. These are some of the moments etched on my heart. I am so excited for what comes next and all the "firsts" just waiting for you. And for me. You've had about 100 in the past 7 weeks, and I love that the first time you got comedian Steven Wright's humor was in 7th grade!

Letting Go

Our seventeen-year-old son left for Boot Camp last week . He'll be gone 9 weeks. Until recently, the longest this mushy mama had gone without seeing him was 10 days. That mission trip had sure seemed long at the time.

They didn't have him pack much - he's been outfitted from head to toe there - and we don't yet have a complete address to snail mail him. He texted they had landed safely, and we had a short phone call on the night they were locking up the cell phones. You could hear the hum of other guys on their calls home in the background.

Who sends their kid somewhere unknown with no stuff? When we sent his big sister to college, we knew where it was and she packed the entire car full of her stuff. Even though we probably didn't see her for 9 weeks, we could have. And we kept in touch by cell phone.  We knew what her dorm looked like, how the campus laid out and where the dining hall was. I knew every stitch of her clothing and what classes she would be taking and when. I even met her roommate.

We don't know anything about where our son has gone except what we can imagine. Having never been on an Army base, my only two frame of references are Gomer Pyle and M*A*S*H, 
neither of which are probably accurate.

I don't know what he will wear, or when, or why. I don't know when he will eat or sleep or what any facility looks like. I don't know his schedule. I don't know what will be taught to him. I don't know what he sees out the window every day or how many guys sleep in the same room. I don't even know what they call the room he sleeps in, barracks? I don't know how much free time he'll get, if any. I don't know how many people live and work at the base or how secure it is. I don't even know when we will hear from him next.

Yep. I don't know noth'n and we signed the papers to let him go.

When we first sent our daughter to college, I thought I was letting go. Nevermind that her dorm was only 45 minutes away and that we could talk any time we wanted to. We didn't talk that much and she came home just a couple of times, but for all intents and purposes, she was there. This was just my practice at letting go. By the time she left the time zone for a metropolis after college, I had been prepared for the big let go and no longer knew every detail about her life or decor. I just knew her.

This time, I get to practice on our youngest years earlier than anticipated in a much harsher manner. The Army has him. My prayers are less guided because I don't know what is going on, but I can pray for endurance and saftey. And as a mushy mama, I pray his drill sargent isn't a meanie.

People who learn about his summer all say the same thing: "He will come back a man." Well, I thought he was quite the man to even desire to enlist so I can't imagine the man we will be picking up in 8 weeks.

This time, letting go is more like having the rope cut for me. It wasn't my choice in timing, and I'm not protesting or clinging. I understand that this is the next step for him. I think he is learning about letting go this summer, too.

I couldn't be prouder.