Although my stubborn, independent, all-knowing son moved to his Dad's about a year-and-a-half ago, I'm officially one bird less in the nest, as of Tuesday. It's funny, but not really, what that feels like.
In a move to totally and completely show me who was in charge about 6 months ago, said offspring enlisted in the Navy. Well, that didn't come without a few other mental gymnastics. The first text about the impending military adventure was, "I'm going to be an airborne infantry medic. You need to sign the papers."
As he comes by his stubbornness rightly, my first thought was, "Airborne Infantry Medic, huh! Well, that is the perfect job of a kid who hates heights, gets panic attacks, and gags to the point of almost puking when he picks up dog poop! Where do I sign?" Cooler heads prevailed and my inside thoughts did, in fact, not make it out of my mouth--at least to him. I cannot lie. Friends have heard that thought numerous times!
Then, came the Navy. To me not as scary, until he announced that he wants to travel with the MarineI Ugh!
When I asked why he didn't talk to the Air Force, his answer was simple, "I did, but they wouldn't really talk to me until after I took the ASVAB and that made me mad." Well, of course, a branch of the military that didn't take him on face value about how gifted he was--that is the group that you kick to the curb because of your stubbornness? Perfect, you millennial child. Ugh! Well, did the other branches offer you a trophy too? I know, I know, I only have myself to blame for that conversation, but my goodness!
Fast foward to this week. I saw him on Sunday night and talked to him on Monday night. He was trying to be tough and tell me how excited he was, but this Mama Bear could see though his crap. Tuesday morning, the texts were becoming more real. Tuesday night, he was sad. Yesterday morning, the call from the airport--was scared. He wouldn't get off the phone--from a child who I have accused of have having a telephone-talking-allergy. And last night when he landed in Chicago, the texts were that of a child wanting his Mom, including the request of "don't forget to write." This, coming from a child who weeks before didn't always want to acknowledge me. My heart sank...and I cried.
All of this is good for him--and me. My younger son says, "He made the decision. He can live with it." Spoken like a true male. He will make a fine, fine dad someday. Dads--the parental unit that is better at pushing the baby birds out of the nest.
On the other hand, this mama bird, fluctuates between--this will be good for him...and bawling like a baby. He will turn 18 in September; just seems too young....but if he was old enough to make the decision, he is old enough to do boot camp.
This parenting stuff sucks! Yes, technical term--sucks! Mama Bird...Navy Mom--two titles that surely conflict!
In a move to totally and completely show me who was in charge about 6 months ago, said offspring enlisted in the Navy. Well, that didn't come without a few other mental gymnastics. The first text about the impending military adventure was, "I'm going to be an airborne infantry medic. You need to sign the papers."
As he comes by his stubbornness rightly, my first thought was, "Airborne Infantry Medic, huh! Well, that is the perfect job of a kid who hates heights, gets panic attacks, and gags to the point of almost puking when he picks up dog poop! Where do I sign?" Cooler heads prevailed and my inside thoughts did, in fact, not make it out of my mouth--at least to him. I cannot lie. Friends have heard that thought numerous times!
Then, came the Navy. To me not as scary, until he announced that he wants to travel with the MarineI Ugh!
When I asked why he didn't talk to the Air Force, his answer was simple, "I did, but they wouldn't really talk to me until after I took the ASVAB and that made me mad." Well, of course, a branch of the military that didn't take him on face value about how gifted he was--that is the group that you kick to the curb because of your stubbornness? Perfect, you millennial child. Ugh! Well, did the other branches offer you a trophy too? I know, I know, I only have myself to blame for that conversation, but my goodness!
Fast foward to this week. I saw him on Sunday night and talked to him on Monday night. He was trying to be tough and tell me how excited he was, but this Mama Bear could see though his crap. Tuesday morning, the texts were becoming more real. Tuesday night, he was sad. Yesterday morning, the call from the airport--was scared. He wouldn't get off the phone--from a child who I have accused of have having a telephone-talking-allergy. And last night when he landed in Chicago, the texts were that of a child wanting his Mom, including the request of "don't forget to write." This, coming from a child who weeks before didn't always want to acknowledge me. My heart sank...and I cried.
All of this is good for him--and me. My younger son says, "He made the decision. He can live with it." Spoken like a true male. He will make a fine, fine dad someday. Dads--the parental unit that is better at pushing the baby birds out of the nest.
On the other hand, this mama bird, fluctuates between--this will be good for him...and bawling like a baby. He will turn 18 in September; just seems too young....but if he was old enough to make the decision, he is old enough to do boot camp.
This parenting stuff sucks! Yes, technical term--sucks! Mama Bird...Navy Mom--two titles that surely conflict!