It’s overwhelming for me to think about a legacy left behind. I’d rather leave behind a soundtrack. Like a mixed tape of my life. The soundtrack to our life with three teenagers and their schedules would give you an eye twitch. And I know we are not the only ones.
The soundtrack of parenthood is a real doozy. “I’ll love you forever” lullabies, the soft hymns of rocking those babies, the Barney song and Bob the Builder tied in with a little Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. Then comes the BeeBoop Disney Channel of pre-teens, only to ramp up to lyrics and beats that began the eye twitch. Although, sometimes when they are sleeping, I’ll sneak in, crawl across their floor and still hear the tune “As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” playing softly.
The days are long and the years are short when your children are in the toddler/younger years. In the teenage years, the days are brief and the years literally evaporate. I’m not kidding when I tell you that one morning you are dropping your darling freshman off for early morning football practice before the sun rises, and the next second you are taking pictures of him walking the stage at graduation. Brace yourself momma, this is truth. All the years of their youth are to be cherished. Not all stages are enjoyable, but cherish the lesson – thus the moment. We are so lucky to have them.
This summer we intentionally chose less camps for the boys. We wanted them to have a summer and actually get bored. When making this plan we didn’t count in Fortnite, which is Satan’s toy to take away all boredom and replace it with Hunger Game killing. Bless. (Note to self – New plan for Summer 2019.) Otherwise we worked, played, conditioned for football, sports camped, cheered the boys on in 7 on 7 football, watched roughly 83 basketball games, Senior tripped, Church camped, vacationed, read lots of books, then looked up to the calendar and realized school started in two days and Mason was moving in four.
Our soundtrack just changed to a slow, sad song for those of you with your sound turned down.
This is our LAST year of having a child in early morning football/basketball practice. (Praise hands inserted here.) For the past 5 years we have had a child in a grade that practices before school, starting on the first day. This year it is Rhett that will be toted to school at 6:30 a.m. Having a 15 and 14 year old, we get to drive to school at 6:30 AND at 7:30 a.m., rushing home in the middle to get ready for our work day. It’s a real hoot.
(*Soundtrack just changed to Pam Tillis’s song “Mi Vida Loca (My Crazy Life)”, which is also most likely the soundtrack Chad heard when we started dating, “If you’re coming with me, you need nerves of steel…”)
The day before school started, Mason called me in a huff and said, “Are you really NOT gonna let me take McCray to school tomorrow?”
Mom – “No, it’s his first day of school – I’m taking him.”
Mason – “But I wanted to take him.”
Mom – “Well, I’m sorry. It’s the last first-day-of-school that I’ll ever be able to take him. Next year he will drive himself.”
Mason – “I know. This year is the last time I’ll ever get to take him too.”
Mom – “I’m sorry bud, he is my baby and I am taking him to school tomorrow.”
Mason – “Seriously mom? I wanted to take him.”
Mom – “That is sweet of you, but it isn’t happening. Why are you still talking?”
Mason – “I can’t believe you aren’t letting me take McCray to school.”
Mom – “Did you grow him in your womb and carry him for 9 months?”
Mason – “Well, that’s unfair.”
*Cue the sad losing sound, “wah, wah, wahh…”
Oddly enough, the child argued over didn’t care who took him to school. He was just hanging with his pal, Ryder.
Yes. Life is sometimes unfair. I hesitate to ever complain or whine about how much I miss Mason now that he has moved to Austin. I hesitate because missing your college kid is normal and expected, but it is still so.dang.hard. I feel like a limb of my body is missing, because a part of our home is. The day after I drove home, leaving him in Austin to fend for himself, I didn’t leave my bed until 4 p.m. I only got out of bed to go to volleyball games with the boys, wearing what I had been grieving in – glorious yoga clothes with a hat thrown on. We walked into the gym and found our friends to sit with, one of them turned around and kindly said, “How are you?”. I replied graciously by bursting into tears that wouldn’t stop. The wife of the couple started hitting her husband on the arm saying, “Quit talking to her, you are making her cry!” To which he replied with the same stunned, raised eyebrow look that my own husband had on his face. Chad shrugged at him and patted my back. There is only so much a husband can do when his wife is losing her heart and mind.
Me leaving Mase. Alone. All by himself.
The day before Hubs texted while I was on my way home from Austin, asking what dinner plans were. I replied, “I dunno”, so he replied that he would cook. I texted, “Thanks babe, I’ll be back to normal next week.” His reply best describes his approach to life, straight forward. “You know it’s just Monday right?” Marry a man who knows laughing through tears helps a hurting heart.
It’s been a month now, and I’m functioning well enough throughout this season’s life song. I’m normally not one to intentionally brag, but I’ve even cooked dinner a few times. I’m working hard to dance through the soundtrack. I don’t nessesarily want to rock the mic like a vandal, but I’d love to simply sway to the current beat.
Enjoying all the rhythms of this life that is so precious.
<3
P.S. Cardboard cutouts left behind of of your college children are great space fillers. They don’t talk back either, so you can trick yourselves into thinking you’ve aced this parenting gig.
