I had lots of other things to say, and one of the main things is that Robert moved out tonight and I didn't get all weird and emotional and isn't that strange and unexpected?
But what I'm finding is, don't count your chickens before they hatch.
Don't count those boys before they fly the coop.
I'm trying to forgive him for being SO excited. I keep flashing back to the day mom and dad dropped me off at college and I hardly hugged them. I just ran off, so excited to be there (and so boy crazy, but whatever.) I wonder if they felt a bit slighted?
I keep coming down to, no. Probably not. Their whole goal in life was to get us ready to be out in the world. Maybe they were a bit nostalgic, but I have to feel like that's a slightly better place to be than dropping someone off who is sobbing uncontrollably or puking on the steps (like Calvin did on his 2nd day of pre-school.)
So, I get why he's excited. Before all of this happened, he had his own apartment with a roommate named Solo. As in, the cup.
Incidentally, all these young'ns have street names. I so want to tell you his... Hold on and I'll ask...
Okay, we've got clearance!
His street name is/was(?) Ruby. I mean...RUBY. So weird! So awesome and rad!
But as I was saying, he's lived on his own basically since he was 12.
Does that put the past 6 months into any kind of perspective?
Cash from their big brother
And now this chapter is over and I'm feeling a bit verklempt but I'm also knowing it will likely only get worse. I'll manage. I'll be okay. But for now, it's hard to wrap my head around it.
It was hard work, for every single one of us. We grew and learned how to be better humans together.
But WE DID IT!
I'm proud of us.
And I'm SO proud of him.
Since he was here, he got a full-time job (that he is kill-ing), got his driver's license, got a car, got a raise, and now, got his own place. He also got his GED in prison (woo hoo!!) and seems to have at least partially won over his grumpy community corrections case worker, although that just might be my bias talking.
This guy, he's just on it. We've put him through his paces, forcing him to adjust to all kinds of weird family situations and various forms of torture like budgeting and cleaning the shower. We've made him really mad and he's held it together. He's made us really mad, and we've worked it all out. This is family, guys. This is it.
There's been so much beauty and goodness. So much raw emotion. So much to learn.
There have been a good handful of apologies (mostly mine, just keeping it real.)
This is my favorite text thread in the history of the world:
Me: As luck would have it, you got a mom who can be moody and selfish sometimes. I'm sorry.
Him: As luck would have it u got a son who's parents taught him a thing or two about forgiveness.
Me: Your text did NOT make me cry. fyi.
Him: Cry baby
I just love him, that's all.
I can't stop thinking about all we would have missed if we'd been too scared, if we'd listened to the people who said it was risky or a bad idea. I'm so grateful God somehow told us the truth about things, and that we only listened to Him. He was so right.
He got socks, sweatpants, fancy shower gel (from the Dented Can haha), a case of Mt. Dew and a case of apple juice boxes.
I sort of hated hearing him leave for work every morning at 5:25 (he was very quiet, I'm just a freakishly light sleeper) but this morning, the last time it will ever happen, I realized that I actually love it. And I didn't even know! I'll miss it, (even when he comes back inside for something and the door squeaks twice, but who's keeping track at 5:25 in the ayem? Not this lady.)
It's ridiculously crazy to process that he's not down in the basement right now shouting and cackling into his phone. If I go into the toy room right now, I won't hear remnant cackles coming up through the heat vent. He won't come bounding up the steps in just a second looking for food and kiss the top of my head en route to the fridge.
Am I being really dramatic? You can be honest.
It's just that he has been here every single minute of the past 6 months except for four hours on Sundays. He's been our live-in guard dog, holding down the fort for us, tucked in on the couch watching Netflix when we come in late on a Saturday night. I literally have not been alone in this home for, yes, the past 6 months.
Clearly, I need to go process this alone for a while, lest this post further deteriorate into a list of all the things I have or haven't done in the past 6 months. "No wifi for the past 6 months!", "I've never bought more ketchup than I have in the past 6 months!" etc...
I'm sure I'll have more to say.
But I'm his mom and my nerves already feel jangled.
Send prayers and salsa.