One of the things that I have been "processing" the last couple of months is the realization that my oldest graduated from high school this year. First of all, where did the years go? He was just starting Kindergarten...then junior high...then high school. I had it all planned for him. He was going to have a great career, after going to a college where he would play baseball, join a fraternity--everything social. That's the kind of kid he is. Doesn't have to work hard, but sure has fun along the way. More self confidence than I have EVER had, a flair for the dramatic, and as stubborn as they come (yes, he takes after his dad for the last trait. Well, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.)
What? He gets to choose? What the heck? He gets to choose? He's an adult? First of all, I am not old enough to be a Navy Mom. Second....well, I don't know what second, but it's logical--I promise.
Initially, he told me he was going into the Army--as an airborne infantry medic. Being the supportive mom that I am, I said (to myself, of course), "I can't think of a BETTER profession for a kid that hates flying (or even going up on an elevator) , gets panic attacks, and pukes at the sight of blood." That was my inside voice. My outside voice said, "If that is what you want to do, then I support you 100%." I wonder if he saw through that? I did have my fingers, toes, legs, arms, and eyes crossed when I said it, as the universal language of "I don't really mean this."
Then, the day came when I got the text that he had chosen the Navy. Now before you say, a text? Yes. A text. The little darlin' moved in with his Dad a year and a half ago--and tensions have been tight. Some say (in a loving way, of course) that maybe said offspring needed to break away from the strong mother type. Strong mother? Hello, I'm not a strong mother!
So, I learned about the Navy switch when he announced that he needed me to sign the papers, because he will still be 17 when he leaves for boot camp. See...it IS my fault. I started him in Kindergarten before he was 5. Maybe this is why he is choosing to put himself in harm's way. Or maybe....it was because of that short stint of 80's throwback music I listened to when he was a baby. Maybe it was too much Village People? Oh. My. Gosh. Maybe I somehow shaped this? What if my music selection somehow guided his decision. What if today he is joining the Navy...and tomorrow, he is going to be a Macho Man going to the YMCA?
So then came the news that he is going to be corpsmen (I had to look up that word, because all I see is corps. Not really liking it, just sayin'). <deep breath>
And, that wasn't bad enough, but the Navy trains the medics (for lack of a better word) who accompany the Marine troops. What? Um...hello? That sounds even more dangerous. Is this the right time to show him all the great things about being an architect....and engineer?
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm proud of him for choosing the military. I'm proud that he wants to serve. I'm proud of him for following HIS path, but...part of me wishes I didn't raise him to be quite as independent. This mama isn't ready to have the "kid" stage be over.
Fast forward to a recent dinner (while on vacation), said offspring announced as I we sat down for dinner (I mean, before the salads even came!), "I've decided as long as I get shot below here (motioning mid-chest) I can make it." (Did I mention he has a flair for the dramatic?)
Fighting back the tears, I said "I know you are going to Corpsmen school, but have you thought about serving on a ship...or a navy hospital?" He mumbled something about being bored. And I fought back the instinct to tell him ALL the great reasons why that would be perfect. See, I do have the ability to hold back--at least sometimes.
So, on August 23, I will become a Navy Mom. It's a bit ironic that while I want to choose my son's career, he has now (somewhat) chosen mine. I'm going to go back and listen to Village People. I'm guessing it says:
In the navy
Yes, you can sail the seven seas
In the navy
Yes, you can make your Mom's anxiety crazy
In the navy
If not, then I'm going to suggest they change the lyrics, right after I find the person that decides where corpsmen are stationed and tell him/her all the pros about having a particular corpsmen on a base about 30 minutes from my house.
So much for being present! :D
What? He gets to choose? What the heck? He gets to choose? He's an adult? First of all, I am not old enough to be a Navy Mom. Second....well, I don't know what second, but it's logical--I promise.
Initially, he told me he was going into the Army--as an airborne infantry medic. Being the supportive mom that I am, I said (to myself, of course), "I can't think of a BETTER profession for a kid that hates flying (or even going up on an elevator) , gets panic attacks, and pukes at the sight of blood." That was my inside voice. My outside voice said, "If that is what you want to do, then I support you 100%." I wonder if he saw through that? I did have my fingers, toes, legs, arms, and eyes crossed when I said it, as the universal language of "I don't really mean this."
Then, the day came when I got the text that he had chosen the Navy. Now before you say, a text? Yes. A text. The little darlin' moved in with his Dad a year and a half ago--and tensions have been tight. Some say (in a loving way, of course) that maybe said offspring needed to break away from the strong mother type. Strong mother? Hello, I'm not a strong mother!
So, I learned about the Navy switch when he announced that he needed me to sign the papers, because he will still be 17 when he leaves for boot camp. See...it IS my fault. I started him in Kindergarten before he was 5. Maybe this is why he is choosing to put himself in harm's way. Or maybe....it was because of that short stint of 80's throwback music I listened to when he was a baby. Maybe it was too much Village People? Oh. My. Gosh. Maybe I somehow shaped this? What if my music selection somehow guided his decision. What if today he is joining the Navy...and tomorrow, he is going to be a Macho Man going to the YMCA?
So then came the news that he is going to be corpsmen (I had to look up that word, because all I see is corps. Not really liking it, just sayin'). <deep breath>
And, that wasn't bad enough, but the Navy trains the medics (for lack of a better word) who accompany the Marine troops. What? Um...hello? That sounds even more dangerous. Is this the right time to show him all the great things about being an architect....and engineer?
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm proud of him for choosing the military. I'm proud that he wants to serve. I'm proud of him for following HIS path, but...part of me wishes I didn't raise him to be quite as independent. This mama isn't ready to have the "kid" stage be over.
Fast forward to a recent dinner (while on vacation), said offspring announced as I we sat down for dinner (I mean, before the salads even came!), "I've decided as long as I get shot below here (motioning mid-chest) I can make it." (Did I mention he has a flair for the dramatic?)
Fighting back the tears, I said "I know you are going to Corpsmen school, but have you thought about serving on a ship...or a navy hospital?" He mumbled something about being bored. And I fought back the instinct to tell him ALL the great reasons why that would be perfect. See, I do have the ability to hold back--at least sometimes.
So, on August 23, I will become a Navy Mom. It's a bit ironic that while I want to choose my son's career, he has now (somewhat) chosen mine. I'm going to go back and listen to Village People. I'm guessing it says:
In the navy
Yes, you can sail the seven seas
In the navy
Yes, you can make your Mom's anxiety crazy
In the navy
If not, then I'm going to suggest they change the lyrics, right after I find the person that decides where corpsmen are stationed and tell him/her all the pros about having a particular corpsmen on a base about 30 minutes from my house.
So much for being present! :D