Bye, Bye, Birdie

I wonder if mother birds have any moments of regret as they push their little ones out of the nest. Are they enjoying their morning worms wondering if their babies will ever fly back to visit them? Are they flitting from tree to tree, secretly worrying that their offspring will disappear, never bothering to give them a call except when they're running out of birdseed? They must be. Human beings can't be the only species cursed to feel the desolation of watching their child move out. That just wouldn't be fair.

Today, my sister had to help her son pack up his humble belongings and watch him head off to his new residence five hours and a couple of states away. This wasn't the first time she had to say goodbye; he graduated from an out-of-state school. But this was different. This time, he wouldn't be coming home for Spring Break; this time, he wouldn't be back for the summer. Nothing in this life is forever but he had signed a lease; he had accepted a job offer. This felt permanent. And my poor sister couldn't take it.

As I tried to comfort her, reassuring her that he wasn't moving that far; that he would be back for visits, I couldn't even buy what I was selling. I knew this sucked. I knew that it was beyond painful for her to welcome her college graduate back for a year of breakfast conversations, shared dinners, and late night talks only to have to say goodbye again.

We spent a long time on the phone trying to remind ourselves that this was what was supposed to happen; that this was the natural outcome of our jobs as mothers. We spent more than a few minutes congratulating each other for having raised some pretty terrific human beings; some remarkable people who were destined for great things. By the end of the conversation, we had come to one conclusion.

Turning out responsible, productive adults into the world may be what we're all shooting for but watching them fly the coop is definitely for the birds.

Boyz to Men

I have to admit I'm not handling this very well. I thought I'd be so happy to have my children move out but now that the first one has actually done it, I'm spending more time crying than celebrating. Maybe it's because it's my son. Unlike my daughter, he never was very demonstrative or communicative. He'd spend days in his room playing video games or talking to his friends, venturing out only to grab a Gatorade and a slice of pizza. If I was lucky, he'd ask me something about Sports Center or throw me a compliment about what I'd made for dinner. If I wasn't, he'd pass me in the hallway without uttering anything more than a couple of grunts. But, every now and then, he'd surprise me. He'd tackle me with a giant hug, reassuring me that I was the greatest mom on earth. Okay. It was usually when he wanted something but I didn't care.

Now that I can no longer find him hanging out in his room, I'm having trouble adapting to our new relationship. Since we work together occasionally, I still get to see him on a regular basis but it's always so impersonal. If he was uncomfortable showing emotion when he was in the privacy of his own home, you can imagine how much he hates it under the glaring eye of non-family members. I'm trying as hard as I can to give him time; to honor his privacy. I remind myself that he still loves me; that we'll get back to a close, connected relationship one of these days.

I just hate the meandering path we're on getting there.