Tag: sons and mothers

Dirty Laundry

I have proven to myself once again that I am a strong woman. I am capable of rising above my strong sense of smell and my acute gag reflex. My three man-children are home this weekend and all three of them took me up on my offer to do their laundry. My eldest son paid to fly in a extra large bagful for the occasion. The smells, a pungent mix of sweat, dirty shoes and mildew and God know what else, layered together in piles of clothes and towels that probably hadn’t see the light of a clothes washer in quite some time, were nothing short of overwhelming. The dubious, edgy t-shirts gotten along the way, I decided not to ponder about too much. I asked them to empty pockets beforehand so that I had no mysteries to unravel and stress about, long after they head back to work and college. Luckily, they complied.

It’s funny how your perspective changes on doing chores, like laundry, for your children, once they are out of the home. I actually, in some weird way, kind of enjoyed the experience (clothespin on my nose and all). And my sons’ warm appreciation for it was certainly at levels I wasn’t used to experiencing when they were all living at home. Old fashioned family days, with all six of us together, just doing our thing, swimming, eating and drinking, playing with the dogs, eating and drinking, playing games, playing pool, eating and drinking, teasing each other playfully, watching movies, eating and drinking, falling asleep on the couch, are just so far and few between now. Those types of days that felt like they would go on forever and ever, are now such a novelty and a gift. I was filled with so much love, and pride and gratitude for this family, that my husband and I created yesterday. Maybe that is the blessing of our children growing up and creating their own adult lives. We all just seem all the more acutely aware of the mutual appreciation that we have for each other now, and for the blessing of our many happy family times and memories. The grumbling about the chores and the expense and the worries and the exhaustion, that abound when raising a large family, gives way to allow gratitude and gratefulness and mostly a quiet thankful awe of it all, to rise to the top and to see everything, even smelly loads of laundry, in a beautiful, new light.

All of the dirty laundry is clean and refreshed now. The adventures my sons are experiencing in their new lives, sometimes far away from us, will be encapsulated in the new rounds of foul-smelling laundry that they will inevitably bring home next visit. And I will welcome it all, with open arms, gladly and giddily.

Who He Is To Me

We will be dropping my youngest son off at college tomorrow. I’ve written before that he is ready to move on and I am prepared. Having been through this twice before, makes it both easier and harder, all because I know what to expect. We’ll adjust.

We are going to have lunch today, just the two of us. That is a rare thing in a family of six. Children, even almost adult children, relish that undivided attention that one-on-one time with a parent gives to them. My son will be cracking jokes or saying things to get my goat. He’s the child who often heard me say, “Please stop being so inflammatory.” His teachers were always impressed that he knew a big word like “inflammatory.”

The funny thing is, my son will think that I will be listening to him, and I will be, to an extent. But I will be less intent on what he is saying and more intent in just savoring the whole essence of him – his familiar mannerisms, his quirky slang, his intense blue eyes. I read once that when you look at your child, you see every version of him or her, all at once. So when I am gazing intently at my youngest son today, I’ll see that round headed, easy-going baby who would pop his head up, just when I was convinced that I had gotten him to sleep. I’ll see that rough and tumble toddler with such a raspy voice that people told me he should be a radio announcer, when he was about three. I’ll see that little guy, who I peered at in the rear view mirror, as I took him to preschool, who talked and talked, making it easy for me to just rest and nod. I’ll see the young boy who was so tough on the football field and the basketball courts, yet so full of intense, righteous feeling, that he could never convincingly lie to anyone. I’ll see the skinny adolescent, always trying to keep up with his older brothers, yet eager to carve his own unique, impressive path. And all of those images will be encased in the handsome, earnest young man across from me at lunch, the young man with a broad shouldered 6’2″ frame, who will be making edgy remarks to get me off balance, all in playful good fun. I will savor him. I will be grateful for him. And I will swallow my tears before they show, because deep down, I know that we both are going to be just fine. We will have lunch together again, just the two of us, and the next time that we have lunch together, there will be a whole new interesting persona for me to get to know, added to all of the wonderful rest of them, that make up who my son is, to me.