The Boy was gone all weekend. What started out as a Friday night spend-the-night evolved into a full-fledged boys weekend. Late Friday, The Husband called and asked me to call The Boy at his friend's house to see if he wanted to go with another friend to their family farm after baseball practice the next day. Well, wait a minute. Didn't someone need to ask me first? After all, if truth be told, I hate it when The Boy spends the night away. The weekend is just not the same without him constantly asking for food and negotiating for more bedtime.
The Boy is my cheerleader. He is always worried about my comfort and my feelings. When he thinks someone has hurt me, he intercedes and either tackles me or jokes with me until I laugh. In other words, I like having him around for my own selfish reasons.
As I picked up the phone to call him at his friend's house. I was pretty sure he would decline the offer. The Boy is a home body, so I figured one night away would be enough for him. Uh, I was wrong. When I asked if he wanted to go....which I believe I phrased as "You don't want to go to.....do you?", he answered "Cool! Yeah. See ya." I hung up and stared at the phone. That would mean 2 days without him, 3 if you counted the fact that he and The Husband were going to the Hawks game Sunday which would really only leave him home long enough to do homework. I believe I actually teared up for a moment, but I quickly reminded myself to cut it out and loosen those apron strings. I grew up with 3 brothers, and I knew it was important to let The Boy do his thing. Nobody likes a "Momma's Boy"....well, except Momma.
The next morning, I was assigned the duty of taking Little One and BFF to play practice. They had spent the night together and were planning to spend the day...and another night together if only I would agree. After their practice, I suggested running by the baseball field to see The Boy. This did not go over well. I had to make several concessions in order to get them to agree. Another spend-the-night, a trip to the shoe store, s'mores for dinner....you get the picture. When they finally agreed, the rest of my day was already planned. Oh well, at least I would get to give The Boy a hug and kiss....
They were already on the field practicing when I got there. I sat up in the stands and watched awhile. The girls had made me agree to a half an hour...and it became increasingly clear that unless I planned on going out onto the field and chatting with him at first base...I was out of luck. I briefly considered doing this...but since The Husband was coaching, I could only imagine the lecture that might come from that. I tried to catch The Boy's eye...but it was just too hard from across the field. 30 minutes later, the girls literally yanked me out of the stands and demanded we head to the shoe store...
That night, as I made s'mores and debated with the girls who was prettier, Miley Cyrus or Selena Gomez, I missed The Boy. After asking The Husband for the hundredth time if he thought The Boy would be ok, he finally gave me the "get over it" look. Literally translated, this means "quit your sissy-girl whining and let me watch the basketball game". Of course, The Husband does not understand. He is not a mom. He is not prone to perpetual worrying. He doesn't sit around and come up with 454 ways that The Boy might get hurt. Nope, he just says "Let him be a boy".
Well, of course this was right. The next day, as I got out of the car to pick him up, it was all I could do not to embarrass him by throwing my arms around him. As he climbed in the car and handed me two days worth of dirty clothes, I told him I had missed him. He nodded and launched into a 15 minute description of 4 wheelers getting stuck in the mud and diving in a freezing lake. Such joy on his face. I sat and listened, happy that he had had so much fun , but a little amazed at how old he looked as he talked. I was proud of myself for restraining myself from trying to extract some kind of declaration of how he had missed home. It was clear that he hadn't given it a moment's thought...
A few hours later, I took him to meet The Husband so they could head off to the basketball game. As I climbed out of the car, he called me over to his window. I walked over and told him to have fun. " Kiss me pretty momma". Ok, so I had to fight some tears back. Letting go isn't always easy...
In a few weeks, he heads to Washington D.C. for a week on a class fieldtrip....This will require a lot of preparation on my part.....
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