Saturday - August 23, 2008

 umbiblical cord

Yes, I said "umbiblical".   Overheard in locker room... the tail of a conversation that began with picture sharing from a son's wedding and evolved into a discussion about the special relationship between mothers and sons.  

It made me giggle.   It was one of those childlike mispronunciations that seemed to make sense (like when Bryan used to call aromatic striped roadkill a "stunk" and the correction rubber an "unracer".)

Shaking her head and clicking her togue, the lady said, "Sooner er later ya gotta cut that umbiblical cord, an it ain't easy!"

Really I think a clean cut is probably rare and likely not healthy.  I know of one mom who did it.  She's dead now, by her own hand.  

Instead, it gets hacked away with each giant step of independence.  Like putting them on the school bus, or getting their drivers license.  Ouch.

Well, my "umbiblical" took a huge blow this week and DAMN did it hurt - much worse than I expected.  I don't know why I always think I'm so tough.  Truth is, I'm a crybaby.  (My brother was right all along!)

It's not like I haven't been preparing for this.  The Bible says "train a child up" in the way he should go... and various other parenting sources along the way expanded on that philosophy for me as a parent.  

It all made sense and I knew it.  You give birth, and spend the next 18 or so years trying to instill some values and gradually fostering their increasing independence.  Then you let go.  Okay.

No wait, let go?   WAHHHHHH!!!

I don't mind letting go of various parenting jobs - like diaper changer, disciplinarian, social secretary and chief maintenance supervisor.  

I DO mind letting go of "Good morning!"  I mind letting go of the constancy of his presence in my life, the millions of precious tiny little seemingly meaningless moments shared along the way.  

Luckily, the college we dropped him off at this week seems by all accounts to be a phenomenal place where they will continue to prepare him for a well-rounded and successful adult life.  

And lucky for us it's only an hour train ride away!  

And even luckier, we live in the age of emails and text messages, so that darn umbiblical is in no way seriously endangered.

Now excuse me, I have to text a goodnight. (JK!)