Love my crazy life

The enviable truth of being a parent is that someday the last one will leave the nest. No matter how exciting it might sound, it still pulls on the heartstrings a bit. Everyone jokes and says, “It’s going to be hard when your baby leaves,” but it’s no joke. Not because he was the baby, not because he was the favorite, but simply because he was the last.

The last 18-plus years you have changed diapers, kissed boo-boos, chased one child or the other all over and back, and now you are just supposed to switch gears like it’s nothing. In the blink of an eye, your whole life changes.

Once the last child flies the coop, where does that leave you? You’ve spent the better part of your adult life responsible for those little heathens you created. So what now? The house is quiet, the refrigerator is full of food you’ll never eat, and you’re up at midnight waiting for a child to walk in the door who won’t be walking through that door anytime soon.

The worst part for me was my boys had to be different. Instead of going to college, messing around and failing their first semester, they joined the military. Instead of cute dorm pictures, phone calls, texts and weekend visits to wash clothes, I get to wait two to three weeks for a letter to arrive in the mail.

You might be thinking, “Wow, she’s cranky. She should be proud of her boys!” Yes, I am incredibly proud of my boys, but it’s hard to let go. With the military, no news is good news, and I was a pretty hands-on parent and kept a pretty tight lease. So, not knowing is not something I do well.

When the oldest left for basic, I was a mess, but I still had the youngest left at home to feed, water and attempt to parent. Basically, I had to keep it together. This time around, I ugly cried for about a day and a half. Just when I thought I had no more tears, I found more. I was absolutely worthless for the first couple of days. The days that followed were not the greatest either. I would be walking across the house and it would hit like a ton of bricks. All I could do in those moments was to just sit wherever I landed and let it out.

It’s been a week now, and I just feel numb. It still hits pretty hard in the evening, when the son would generally come home and tell me about his day. I miss my “goodnight, Mom. I love you,” followed by that big, tight hug. It’s so hard knowing what he is going through and not being able to cheer him on. He’s not my baby anymore; he is literally the property of the United States Marine Corps. The Marines have a saying, “Embrace the suck,” and I intend to do just that until it sucks no more.

I’m still not sure what my future looks like after this. For now, I plan to keep myself busy. I have always worked through my feelings with strenuous labor. If you’re too tired to think, your too tired to have feelings! LOL! Thankfully the oldest will be home to visit in a week or two, and basic training is only 13 weeks. Only 12 to go. X’s & O’s.