This was so unexpected. My 5th child, 3rd boy, left yesterday to join the army. It’s been talked about for months, and prepared for, and is certainly no surprise. We have objectively discussed his plans and just lived life through his last weeks and days here. And then the day arrived.
Shouldn’t this be the same as when all the other kids left? I’m no stranger to this, after all. I remember saying goodbye to my oldest as a daily presence in my life after my divorce when he was 14 to live with his grandparents. Angry and displaced, we missed a few years, but we worked it out. I suppose I was too over-worked and over-stressed by the other eight kids to miss him terribly. That sounds bad, but I wouldn’t trade the relationship I have with him today for anything. We talk daily, and he’s the most together kid there is. And at 27, father of two, he’s not really a kid anymore.
My daughter and son at 16, leaving in fits of pique to live with their father…while the pain of having them leave was palpable, it was made bearable by the fact that you knew they were off to learn a lesson. They were angry – at me. The grass was greener over there, for sure. But I knew that pasture well, and it just has a lot more shit on it to step in. And with all the responsibilities still loaded onto my plate, again…it was as much stress relief as it was painful to watch them struggle in their new free environment. And again, when I look back, there are no regrets – my kids are my best friends.
My second daughter, needing to leave home at 15…not in anger, but in determination. A determination and calling that cannot be ignored, despite what the memes of society say. I recall the tears as I left her 1800 miles away on a Texas ranch, staring out the train window, and wondering how this would all turn out. I knew it was the right thing…regardless of how much it hurt my heart. Time has shown, we backed the right horse.
But this…this has been different. I woke up the night before he left, and cried. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to write him a note, but the words would not come. Back and forth to bed and the kitchen. His little sister can’t sleep either. We hug and cry some more. Why? This is crazy – I’m just not given to these outbursts.
The alarms all go off before the sun is up, and I get Phil out of bed to say good-bye. Friends have gathered here to see him off. The recruiter is a few minutes late, and Phil’s bus arrives. It was touching to see him hug and kiss his brother, and Phil tells me later he was trying not to cry.
The recruiter arrives and gives me emergency details, which I really don’t think I’ll need. He tells me his itinerary, and I am holding back a deluge of tears, and I don’t really know what to do with them. I watched my boy get into the car, smile, and wave. See you soon, kiddo. I love you….
It’s taken a day to process this all. Like a holiday, only no one else is observing it. I headed to the kitchen and produced stuffed green peppers, dried pineapple, brussel sprouts, bran muffins and home made bread and rice. And kept the kitchen clean to boot. And all the while I contemplated this shift.
Nine kids is a bit of ridiculous number of children to have, and I never did wrap my brain around the empty nest thing. How could I? I could only imagine a day of no kids about the house! The ins and outs of the older kids to date have been more or less breaks in the action – but there was still always action, whether they were there to add to it or not. But these days are a little slower.
I don’t have to get them up and ready for school. I don’t do their laundry. I don’t keep track of all their hats, mitten and gloves, and yes, I’m the lazy mom who doesn’t even attempt to keep up with their academic litter. In the early stages of letting the older ones go, I started to let go of the little ones, too, in a sense. Giving them a little more personal responsibility than perhaps they wanted.(Resentments they will just have to get over – I did the best I could.) But with the needs that Phil has, they see up close and personal that I simply do not have time to cater to needs they can take care of themselves. Welcome to the adult world. It’s always been my philosophy that I am not raising children…I am raising adults.
And then I contemplate my latest child’s departure. Why this difference? Because this dynamic was so different. This child – number five – whose home birth I actually enjoyed; who ushered in a part of my life that made me who I am, and pushed all the limits of what I could do; whose memories are so fond; who smiled so early in life and never stopped; who watched observantly as his siblings tripped and stumbled; who determined to avoid the pitfalls they found; who stepped up to his responsibilities as an older sibling to the best of his ability; and who has been a daily presence in my life for the better of 20 years…is going his own way.
No…for me this is new. This is not familiar. No anger, no arguments, no “I know better than you” bullshit. Nope – this is the way it’s “supposed” to be, you see. They go to all 12 years of school, have a job at the grocery store, have learned the basics of how to take care of themselves and then leave to pursue higher education, a job or the military…right?
But that’s not how it’s been. As my kids have decided to leave home, they have done so with as much frustration as hope, and as much anger as enthusiasm. A teenager spewing insults at you for your parenting mistakes as they perceive them is far easier not to miss. Especially, as I mentioned, in light of all the other kids I had to take care of. I didn’t miss the drama, the arguments, or the stress. Most of it got internalized to that space between awake and asleep where you wonder where they are and how they are doing. The missing them was more than made up for when they’d show up on the doorstep, or on the phone with a problem only Mom could help them with. And while I wished I didn’t just have to be on the clean-up crew of their fragile independent lives, you can’t help feeling in that letting-go-of-the-angry-teen process, that they are going to learn the hard way….and that is okay. You asked for it, kiddo…you got it.
But here in lies the difference. Life is never “fair”. Not even for the kids who leave home the “right” way. Reality still runs at you and tries to bite at times. But I want the world to be fair to this kid. It’s not that I don’t want this for ALL my kids…of course I do. But the way in which each of them chose to declare their independence has had everything to do with their attitude. Those who went out swinging have been knocked on their asses a few times. Thinking life was a game to be conquered, they are finding out it’s far more a story to be written. What can I expect now for the kid who is going out into the same world, now, with a smile, a handshake, and high hopes for his journey in life? In the military?
In a house that grows quieter by the year, his presence has been pleasant and steady. His diplomacy appreciated – and in all our time together nary a harsh word between us. Disagreements, to be sure – but always in the context of a reasonable discussion. Even though he was not here a whole lot since his summer graduation, he was still around. The chauffer, the errand-boy, the fill-in-the-gaps and pick-up-the-pieces kind of kid.
He is going now to write his own story – apart from mine. The same as his siblings. His younger siblings are not so young anymore, and my life will simmer down another notch. One less set of footsteps around the house. No more bounding down the stairs, as only he can do. His story will begin to take shape – and I want him to be happy. I want him to succeed. I want life to respond in kind to him for all that he has put forward in his life to meet it with: Love for family, grace, and positivity. So happy to think that these laws of reciprocity will come into play for this middle child of mine…so sad to no longer have this person as part of my daily experience…who could ever make sense of all these tears?
