The Shopping Trip

I just got home from a surreal shopping trip to Walgreens.  My first child is moving away to college in 3 weeks and I was buying some of the necessities he will need.

"We only have 3 weeks left...."

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When he started kindergarten, I remember being worried about 2 things.  "If he has to use the potty, where does he have to go?  Are the facilities all the way down the hall?  Will my 5 year old be wandering the halls alone, trying his hardest not to have an accident while trying to remember which door is the right one?"  As it turns out, the brilliant minds who built the school put a restroom in the kindergarten classroom.  Problem solved.  I also wondered if the students got snack time.  Which, of course, they did.

It took years for me to figure out that I had focused on two relatively small issues so I didn't have time to worry about the big stuff, like the fact that my little guy was starting "real" school and would be away for 7 hours a day.  Or the fact that we were simultaneously exiting one phase and entering another.  Up until that point, I was his main influence in most matters.  He had good manners because I enforced it....over and over.  He didn't like soda because I didn't allow him to have it.  He called adults Mr. or Mrs. because I told him that's how children address grownups.  He wore the clothes I bought for him and he had no idea if something was cool or not.  But once he entered kindergarten, he was under the influence of others as well.  I can look back now and say that's a good thing.  A very very good thing.  He maintained the polite, friendly, kind heart that I had nurtured while learning about the newly expanded world around him from his teachers and friends.

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I wandered the aisles of Walgreens.  Slowly.  Glancing at every item.  "Paper towels?  I don't think so.... but then again what if he spills something.  Maybe I'll give him extra hand towels for that?  But I should get those cleaning wipes.  Cuz if he spills something on the floor like juice, you can't just wipe that up....the floor will be sticky.  Oh!  Band aids.  I almost forgot band aids.  I know he's 2 buildings away from the health office, but what if he gets a nasty paper cut after they're closed.  But what about an antibiotic cream?  Hey look at that.  There's little first aid kits on sale and they have everything.  Should I get him a full size broom and dustpan or just a little whisk broom?  Chapstick.  Sometimes he gets dry lips in the winter.  I can't forget the ibuprofen, too.  Cough drops!  He always gets a nasty cough when he has a cold.  Might as well get those now so he has them on hand when he gets sick.  Why the f*** am I getting teary eyed in the medicine aisle?!  Qtips.  3-in-1 body wash, shampoo, face wash.  Guys have it so easy.  One bottle.  Hair product?  Nope.  Comb?  Can't remember what kind he likes.  Floss?  I hope he flosses.  Does he floss?  No clue.  Don't forget that there's a Wal-Mart near campus.  You don't have to buy a year's worth of toiletries.  Just a few week's worth.  There's nowhere to hang a dry erase board in the dorm room.  I'll get post it notes in case he has to leave a note for his roommate.  Vitamins?  Maybe?  His eating habits are decent.  I'll ask him.  Not spending 15 bucks on vitamins that will just collect dust.  I wonder if he'll clean his room sometimes.  I don't really want to know.  LOL remember the friend that went away to college last year and didn't change his sheets all semester?  LOL.  Oh lord please don't be the kid who never washes his sheets."

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Sloooooowly I walked the aisles.  Trying to think of every possible scenario so he'll be prepared.  Focusing on the mundane so I wouldn't have to confront the elephant in aisle 4.  He will be surrounded by people who can help him....no matter what the issue.  Big problems or small, there are people for him to turn to.  Except me.  I won't be there.  I'll just be a voice on the other end of a phone call.  I'll be 5 hours away.  7 during rush hour.  And it's okay.  It's a tough pill to swallow, but it's okay.  I'm not supposed to be the #1 forever.

This is how it's supposed to go.....for him, that is.  Not every kid is comfortable with leaving home yet.  Turning 18 and graduating from high school aren't magical events.  They don't all suddenly grow the nerve to head off into the sunset.  We have 4 kids in this family....I can name 2 of them who are most likely NOT moving 5 hours away at the age of 18.  And one who will probably hightail it out of here before the ink on the diploma is dry.

But for him?  This is exactly how it's supposed to go.  This is how our next phase plays out.  He is meant to grab onto his future with crazy blind optimism while I stand back thinking, "I don't know if I'm ready."  I'm supposed to warn him about all the ways he should be careful while he smiles and says, "I'll be fine."

He will be fine.  I know he will.  I'm just not sure if I'm ready.....

The little things

It seems like forever since I've been on this blog.  The profile says I'm 41.  I'm definitely not 41 anymore.  At one time, this blog was the key to my sanity....allowing me to be creative at a time when my brain felt terribly stagnant.  Whether 50 people read it or 3 didn't make much of a difference.  I just needed a way to sort out the shit floating in my head.  Then I started working more hours....and I got too busy....and that's okay.  My brain is stagnant no more.  But I came back today to reminisce.  Looking through my rough drafts, I found this one that I never published.  Seems appropriate to share today since yesterday was our 22nd anniversary and every word of this is still true.  I polished up the ending and decided to post it now.

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I don't remember exactly when my heart started growing.

Maybe it was in the hospital when I watched him hold his son for the first time.

Or maybe it was in the months before that when he made a million trips, without complaint, to Baskin Robbins to buy the ice cream that quelled my nausea.

Or maybe it was many years after that when he nervously changed his daughter's diaper for the first time while I laughed. "Oh my god. There's poop EVERYWHERE! I don't think I should be the one cleaning her."

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Rachel has a cold. And pinkeye. The poor kid is an uncomfortable, oozing mess. She woke up this morning with a crusty nose and eyes. She wasn't crying...she calmly told me that she couldn't open her eyes.

I pulled out a washcloth and soaked it with warm water. She patiently waited while I tried my best to clean her eyes, but I was nervous about hurting her or accidentally poking her in the eye with the washcloth. I wasn't making much progress.

Daddy came into the bedroom.

He asked, "Do you want Daddy to clean your eyes?"

"Yeth." (Yes.)

"Okay, pretty girl. Come with me." He led her into the bathroom.

I heard water running. They talked a bit.

And then he said this: "There's my beautiful eyes!" And my heart swelled up a little more.

"Thank you, Daddy!"

She broke out of the bathroom. "Momma! I can thee (see)!"

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I don't know when it started growing, but it continues nearly every day.

Like the time he beamed with pride as he told me how his boy scored 3 goals during the hockey game.

Or the time I saw tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched his other boy get stitches for the first time.

And the time he made some household repairs for my parents when my father was too ill to do it himself.

Growing. Growing. Growing.

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We were so young when we got married. As in, 'it was just barely legal for me to have that glass of champagne" kind of young. We had no clue what marriage and parenthood would be like.

We knew we loved each other. We knew we really liked being together. And so, with a white dress and a black tuxedo and a whole boatload of hope, we vowed "for better or for worse."

Little did I know how small my heart was.

Or what it would take to make it grow.

Not with jewelry or a bouquet of flowers or a weekly date night or grand gestures, but with many years of little moments. And just when I don't think my heart can get any bigger, he strikes again.

Like the times he told me I was beautiful when I was exhausted and weary of my swollen, pregnant, stretch-mark ridden belly.

Or when we sort the kids' Halloween candy and he hands me the Kit Kats because he knows they're my favorite. (And in the springtime, when he buys me bunny-shaped Peeps because he knows they're also my favorite.)

It grows and grows some more.

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One Sunday morning, several years ago, we sat at the table reading the paper...the boys were quietly enjoying their cartoons and cups of cereal. He was reading an article that listed the top 10 professions that were most likely to show increased growth in the upcoming years. The kind of article that you would hand to your college-bound kids and say, "Here. Pick a job and get a degree in THAT."

One of the careers listed was "pharmacist."

He looked up from the paper and said to me, "You should go back to school and become a pharmacist."

Always the first one to question my own abilities, I raised my eyebrows and said, "Yeah. Right."

With a look of genuine surprise, he said, "Well.....why not? You're smart!"

And it grew some more.

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At least once a year, some article surfaces in which the reporter interviews couples who have been together for several decades.

"What's the secret to a long, happy marriage?"

It's a laughable question, really.  What works for you may not work for me.  In hindsight, it may be as simple as keeping my eyes and ears open for the tiny moments that all added up to 22 years together.  I've never cried with joy or surprise over a dozen roses or diamond earrings.  But I've felt my heart swell countless times over small things no one else will understand.