Monday, 13 September 2010

The Baby Bird Flees the Nest...

Little by little, I have been gathering bits and pieces together in preparation for my son leaving to go to College later this month...

I have been super-super-organised and have already filled a big, lidded cardboard box with booty: Crockery and cutlery, toiletries and stationery requisites, and earlier this year, I bought the aforementioned vintage trunk, currently residing in the garage...

I am washing and drying laundry ready for the filling of a wardrobe, or three, and we still need to get him a couple of items so that he can take this new step in his life. We were supposed to do this on Friday, when I took a day's leave from work to spend time with my son, whom I've seen very little of lately, as it happens.

He felt ill after a stay-over at his girlfriend's new student house, and was tired after a night of coughing, unfortunately, (I think he's caught a bug from my husband), so we're planning to do things over the weekend instead.

And on Friday night, I found myself enjoying the veritable tippy-tappy, and talking to my friend over Facebook, which is very handy for that, if for very little else!


And crying. mainly crying, as things worked out...

I'm not sure where that came from, because I'm all right about Grizz leaving, I am. We've seen him so rarely recently that it's almost like he's already moved out, except I keep finding dirty dishes and half-filled glasses on, around and under the sofa, and rogue, smelly socks roam the floors of my house like pilgrims in search of the Holy Grail!

But I'm obviously moping a tad, in spite of my sanguine, and organised, exterior. And a few words from a dear friend who's plotting her daughter's departure to College in Leeds, to read journalism, were all it took to turn on the taps... For a short time. Wine may also have been involved. Possibly.

Grizz is off to read Geography. Did I tell you already that I'm very proud of him? He's only off to Newcastle, so not very far. Still in slapping distance, actually! (Only kidding, honestly!)

I expect I shall be meeting him from time to time for lunch while I'm still working in the city. I shall be dispensing sound advice and ten pound notes, I should imagine.

This is the role of a mother, is it not?

To love them and to let them go.

To cry tears that are a mixture of joy and regret...

For what has been, and for what shall probably never be the same again.

Bon Voyage, my treasure!


  1. I should print this out and keep it for a few years time, a time I'm dreading.

    My degree subject was Geography - I hope he enjoys it. My home town was Newcastle - it will be brilliant.

    Thinking of you both.

  2. This will be me this time next year. Such a bittersweet experience - I don't know how I'll get through it. I suppose you just shed the odd tear and get on with it... but I am preparing myself for the whole dynamic of my house to change.
    Thinking of you and wishing your son all the best.

  3. Chin up: be brave! I expect that's what your mother would say. (I shall try and remember when it's my turn!) And Look on the bright side: you may yet find yourself with a regular hungry visitor with mountains of washing...

  4. I hear your pain. And even though Grizz has been the lesser spotted kind at least you knew he was at home. My eldest has just started 6th form but it's on the cards and I know I will have to buy a bloomin big box of tissues. Be brave particularly when you drop them off at uni as that is the hardest part. I work at a uni and have witnessed for myself it's a very peculiar day of emotions on both sides

  5. That was me a year ago. Such a big step for him and you, but surpisingly you will get used to it. All the best.

  6. That was also me a year ago. You never stop missing them, and missing the raising of them, but life goes on and you forge your relationship anew. and it is good in another way. still good.

  7. I'm right there, Eldest Beautiful Daughter leaves on Saturday and I find myself crying at very unexpected moments. All the time.

  8. I feel like I just saw my life flash before my eyes and I am sad already. Mine are 3 and 1 years old.

  9. I am dreading it (next year).
    I always remember my parents putting me on the train at Newcastle Central Station, bound for Bristol (trunk following in a few days). As the train pulled out my mother appeared to burst into tears and I thought "What on earth's wrong?". Now I know.

  10. Cannot bear the thought of it. Have been dreading it since was pregnant with first. Really. Somehow he's now 14 and since the last few years have zipped by I just know it will seem to come in a flash. Am not ready, just not ready! Tears coming to eyes already. Wet or what. Good luck to your son! And to you.

  11. I remember it well! Fathers not allowed to cry at least in public. Tnen its grandchildren and it all starts again. Have a break, for now!