I have raised a son who is not afraid to cook supper for his family. In fact, when he asked "Mom, do you have an apron?" I was the one who raised an eyebrow...but only for the briefest nanosecond. I managed to retrieve one from the depths of the kitchen cabinet, at the bottom of the dish towel box where I keep all my important kitchen tools.
Anyway...This is how my eldest son and his beloved looked, blissfully domestic and innocent, before I was forced to set them straight on the level playing field of our kitchen table. Three games of Tribond, completed, game, set, and match, within 15 minutes.
That was three weeks ago and once again I will not be home to take care of my poor, neglected children...the ones who, as illustrated above, would starve to death and die of loneliness were it not for me...Yeah, right.
But I do miss the hell out of them. The cool part is, they can function fine without me. All I have to do now is hold on to that sage advice a Golden Ghetto mom gave me as oldest boy walked up the steps of the school bus for his first day of kindergarten and didn't look back.
I'm standing there on the corner, blubbering into a ragged tissue because my baby didn't need me anymore, and this transplant from Queens had the tee-total nerve to snicker. "Are you crying 'cause your boy there is leaving for kindergarten?" she asked. Clearly a mental giant, this girl was...
"He didn't even look back at me!" I cried, blowing my nose.
Queenie just shook her head. "You don't get it," she said. "That's a good thing, him not lookin' back. It means you done your job. He's leavin' home knowin' he can take care of himself."
Now why hadn't I thought of that?!
I stuffed the shredded tissue into my pocket. The yellow school bus turned the corner and faded into the early morning mist, taking my baby who was no longer a baby, away from me.
It was our first "real" goodbye and he hadn't even clung to my waist crying...the way I'd imagined he'd do. His brave little face hadn't turned back at the last moment to seek the reassurance he needed to leave home.
And this, indeed, was a very good thing.
Of course now he's a teenager. A senior in high school, preparing for his true launch out into the real world. An almost 18 year-0ld boy, in love for the very first time...And I am away so much these past few months. I look back on that sage advice I received at the school bus stop so many years ago and think of how well he's doing 200 miles away, at home alone so much of the time.
How breezy his deepening voice sounds on the phone. How sweetly he reassures me that he and Ben are fine while I am away from home...Our home...Our wonderful, spacious, home with three bedrooms...Three BEDrooms, one girl friend, three BEDROOMS...ONE very, cute, precious, precocious, she-hussy, who must be leading my boy down the path to self-actualization and possible unwanted pregnancy...Oh, holy shit!
I don't care how that mom from the Golden Ghetto put it all those years ago...There's a hell of a difference between a yellow school bus and the backseat of a '96 Toyota Camry!
Those two testosteronally impaired boys need a keeper!
Is it any wonder that I called upon my two best friends and paragons of virtue for help? Is my friend, Martha, in the pink hat, not the perfect role model? How could I have any worries about my babies with Martha in charge and Marti watching her back? These two, no-nonsense women have a world of experience at their fingertips. They'll make those two boys toe the line. Those boys can't pull a fast one while Martha T. Pink Hat's on duty. No, Siree!
A mother can only hope for the best, I suppose!
1 comment:
Your friend Martha looks exactly like my uncle's wife, Aunt Jeanne. Aunt Jeanne disappeared about 10 years ago or so, at least that's what we heard from her family after my uncle and she divorced. I had to look at it twice!
Good luck keeping your boys' virtue Nancy. You do understand that what you don't know might kill you if you do, right?
A big hello to your friends, Hi Girls!
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