It’s Saturday and normally there are a thousand things to try and get finished before Monday morning smacks me in the face but there is an unimaginable amount of paperwork that I’m going through right now for something that I want to talk about and am not going to talk about just yet. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here (in the little box on your computer screen) (or in the little box of your Internet-capable phone) because I am the ultimate procrastinator and because I am waiting for my Mallory’s moving truck to arrive and strip me of her belongings because she is moving out and buying her own house.
WHEN DID ALL THAT CRAP HAPPEN?
To add to the fun I have been nursing a strange combination allergy/cold that I’m diagnosing myself and calling in prescriptions as if I’m the Queen of Fantastico (a real place, I’m sure) and yet, somehow, my doctor is letting them be filled. Only the magic of the Neti Pot has made it possible for me to be able to get in the shower each day and start the routine of getting myself ready to leave the house. This has come with a weird side effect of having a red spot on my nose. I’m not sure how the sound in my ears has come to create a muffled yet piercing noise, but I can’t quite hear well during this illness which I’m calling The Dirty, Mite-Infested Curtains Are Trying To Kill Me. The only reason I’m blaming the curtains is because I was trying to shake them out and make them look presentable. Why I was doing this, I do not know. Not many things can be explained away easily as of late. For example (and it appears that an example is necessary at this point), I made bacon in a wok this morning. Why did I do that? Because a wok was readily available and I didn’t feel like looking for a regular pan.
Sidenote: wok-fried bacon is genius.
Sidenote, the second: this entire post seems to be a sidenote.
So! I’m on a lot of medicine, right? And I am sleeping a lot because I doze off while doing the most mundane things and my hearing is questionable right now. To top it off, I foolishly answered the door this morning while in a haze between sleep and awake to some Jehovah’s Witnesses to whom I was probably rude.
Her: (mumble, mumble, thick accent) Good morning, this is blah blah my husband. (Mumble mumble I have Skittles in my mouth mumble mumble) Are you a Bible owner and reader?
Me: Both.
Her: Great! Can I read some of the Bible to you? (flips pages to a passage)
Me: No.
Then, I shut the door in their faces. That’s not like me, but I am physically unwell and emotionally fragile at the moment. I really needed to haul ass to get some cleaning done, finish waking up, and get ready to get Mallory moved. She brought three strapping men with her to help move the couch set I’m giving her (and it’s only two years old) (I’m a really nice mom to give her that stuff). Things just seemed to spiral from there.
And then? She arrived home to my house to collect her things. Clothes, school projects, pictures, makeup, computer.
And then? They moved it all really quickly and efficiently.
And then? She got her truck loaded up and grabbed her keys, kissed me goodbye, and drove away.
And now?
I am quite the mess.
{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
Awwwwwwww. What a bittersweet day.
Probably mostly bitter right now.
Wait– THEY LEAVE?????
(Mother of 17 and 13 year old daughters…)
To clarify: I DON’T WANT them to leave!
Ooooh. I have no idea what that must feel like, but I’m sure you are a mess.
Oh, I dread this day (an mine are young). But you certainly aren’t rid of her yet. She’ll will find lots of spaces that she needs to decorate and of course she’ll shop at home first.
Sending you plenty of virtual hugs…
Be proud, too, it means you are creating self-sufficient children who can take care of themselves no matter what happens to you. This is a heart-breakingly wonderful moment in parenting. Now the strange thing is that when she is in your house, somehow she will feel like a guest. That’s hard. Just comb her hair and do some braids, all will be well. I always do that with/to @leahjones. She’ll be back.
I’ve been freaking out about this since my son started high school last fall. He can’t leave, he can’t leave, he can’t leave. I know he will, and I think I’m going through the panic now so I can be calm, cool, and collected when he does leave. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
Kelly,
I can’t imagine…I’m trying really hard not to as both of my kids are in high school now. It’s scary to think in just 4 years both will be in college and moving on to their own lives. It seems like just yesterday they were 2 years old. I am thinking of you today and sending you lots of love and big squishy hugs all the way from Hawaii.
Blessings
Missy
The nerve! The nerve of that kid to grow up, become independent, buy a home of her own, and move out! Kids these days, eh?
Seriously, I know you’re hugely proud of your daughter, and I know it’s killing you to watch her do exactly what you raised her to do.
Many hugs.
I’m pretty sure that whisky fixes all of that…
Oh, and don’t worry; someday you can guilt her into moving closer to home. It took my mom 15 years but she managed to pry me out of a condo a five minute drive from the beach into a condo a 20 minute drive from the Mississippi River. She’s good.
Sidenote blog posts rule. Seriously.
I feel your pain. Mine are only six and I dread the day. Meds can be a good thing. You are entitled.
Hang in there! I know exactly how hard that had to have been. My baby girl (and yes I will keep calling her that even if she did go and get married on me) moved out at the beginning of March – I miss her like crazy!
I am really dreading those days. Hold on sweet lady…and i’ll hold on to you.
Last year when my ex and I were separating, I found out he was already engaged to be married to someone within’ 6 weeks of us separating.
A JW came to the door and said, “Do you believe in hell?”
I said, “Yep, there better be. My ex is going there.”
He laughed… but tried to regain composure. I kept mine all the time, with a serious face….
… because, he is
Oh, Honey! I can only imagine. Of course you slammed the door in the JW’s faces. Didn’t they know what was happening that day? Didn’t they pray before knocking on your door?
She’s done what she’s supposed to do, and she could only do it, because you did what you were supposed to do. You done good, Mama! Now you can collect cats, start audacious projects, become a workout fanatic. . . the world is your oyster. Or maybe wait until the boys leave?