Officially, No Longer My Baby

My little boy that laughed readily, even at the tender age of 3 months, is 21 years old today.

If you are a mom who has grown children, you alone know what I am feeling today.  I can't quite put my finger on it; there isn't really one word to describe it, but the feeling is still there.

I feel like I should be able to flip a switch, dial down a knob, or just wiggle my nose and have this sense of constantly protecting, forever worrying gone from my state of being.

Alas, things just don't work that way.  I feel I should talk to my mother or other people who have grown children.  How do you turn it off?  Although my son still lives with us, I still feel like this is a huge mile-stone; not just for him, but for me as well.

Relatively speaking, I feel as if my anchor has given way.  I know I am still a mom but at the same time, I feel like my job is just for show now.

He no longer has to do as I say.  I can't ground him.  I can't put him on restriction.  I can't hug him, and shower him with fish-kisses anytime I want to.

He's the only one I have.  I had no practice and sometimes it showed.  Often times, it didn't though.  It is a blessing to hear what a wonderful son I have, how polite he is, how much of a hard-worker he is.  I sometimes wish that I could say that more often myself, but as with all children, they are on their best behavior for others and only you as their parent get to see "the dark side".  Ha!

I look at him sometimes and my heart hurts I love him so much.  I was 17 when I had him, and I thought, as only a 17-year-old girl does, that I couldn't love anyone more than myself.  When I first saw him, after the doctor laid him on my chest, all slimy and screaming, I thought my heart would burst.  And I knew, without a single doubt in my mind, that I would die for this squirming, screaming little boy.  I would protect him with my life and try to teach him to be a good boy and eventually, a great man.

Sometimes, when I talk to my friends and relatives who are my age and they are just now having babies, I wonder how I ever did it so young.  I guess it doesn't really matter now.  Although, I do wish that I knew then what I know now.  That would be the ultimate super-power to have, I think.

I wonder if I am the only one who remembers exactly what their baby looked like during those first few minutes of life outside the womb?  I remember seeing the "wine-stain" birthmark on his fingers.  I noticed over time that they darken when he is mad or upset.  I remember seeing the birthmark on the back of his neck for the first time, that looks like three dots arranged in a pyramid.  I remember his long, soft blond hair.  I also distinctly remember the words, "Holy cow!" from the nurse that weighed him in at 8 lb 14.5 oz.  I also remember that the layette set we brought for him to come home in was too small for him and the booties wouldn't fit on his newborn, size 2 feet.

Although, I missed a lot of time with him due to life and what sometimes goes along with it, I am very grateful for every single minute that he is here on this earth.

It staggers me to think of how I could of made this person.  It is amazing to see pieces of his dad and myself in this other human being; this other person that I made.

My sisters have grandchildren now.  I love those little babies, but I can only imagine what it would be like to see myself and my son's dad in another little child.  To get all Game of Thrones on ya, "the blood of my blood" and all that.  Very theatrical but there you have it.

Happy 21st Birthday Baby!!!

Well, since I last wrote, I was planning my trip on the Oregon Coast Trail.  I left.  I hiked.  I made it two days.

I am going back to my spirit quest, pilgrimage, finding oneself, what-ever-the-fuck-you-want-to-call-it.  But I am going to make a few changes first.

It might not seem like I could have accomplished much on my short hike  but I did.  I learned.

1. I learned not to let anyone else pack for you or "help" you pack.  I had a list of things I would need.  A list stolen from a perfectly good hiking website forum.  It was smart, economical, and lightweight-ish.  This whole trip was to help me unburden myself from my own and others crap.  Packing the crap and taking it with me both metaphorically and literally almost made the whole trip pointless.  
2. I can't bring my dog again.  I want to, but I need to be able to take care of myself above all things; something I don't do at home.  I was so worried about Buttercup the whole time (was she warm enough, cool enough, hungry, or thirsty) that I neglected myself as usual.  Learning to stop putting else's needs before my own is a huge lesson that I need a ton of practice on.  Plus her food was heavy.
3. I want to get a licence to carry a handgun, get a handgun and to know what I'm doing with it.  I'm not going to debate it with anyone.  Ever again.  My beliefs, my life, my safety.  I have let other's trepidation rule my own.    
4. I need to practice re-folding my tent.
5. I learned that there are truly nice people.  The trip was cut short after rolling my ankle and ending up in the ER.  I had little cash on me so unbeknownst to me, they pitched in and paid for my cab ride to a local hotel.  I was floored when I told the cabby that I had 15 bucks to get to a hotel and he said it was already covered.

The ankle is healed and I am planning away and making lists again.  Not sure where I'm off to though.  Oh, and I also learned to keep my cards closer to my chest.  I am too susceptible to other people's opinions.  That's how I got screwed up in the head in the first place.  I am taking baby steps to rely on my own choices, based on my needs, not on someone else's.  I'll let you know what I decide soon.

As I sit here in my living room, I look around and it looks as if an REI as thrown up in here after partying with a garage sale.  I'm going to attempt to hike as far as I can on The Oregon Coast Trail.  It's about 350 miles.  Last I heard the bet was 2 miles.  Hmmmph, we will see.

Last night I started to rearrange, pack, unpack and re-pack my backpack with the "help" of the hubby.  He keeps wandering around the house finding new things that he thinks I will need on this trip.  I remind him that I have to haul all this shit around on my back.  Oh yeah. . .

My pilgrimage, journey, mid-life crisis, hiking thing sort of begins today.  Today will be spent getting to the trail head, which thanks to my sister the Mighty Mo driving me, I will arrive at sometime today.  It feels so strange to me to not have a set schedule for a trip.  I'm a bit anal about time-lines, lists, and schedules.  But I am attempting to alter that part of myself.  It helps that I am pretty sure the Oregon Coast Trail is not going to leave without me.  

The worst thing for me is catching a plane. Driving me to the airport is sometimes a frightening, yet fascinating event.  I think once I almost hyperventilated when there was a wreck on the freeway and we were stuck behind it when we were airport bound.  I was looking for a break in the fence next to the highway, so we could 4x4 through Farmer Brown's field around the wreck.  Of course it never occurred to me to maybe be a little concerned about the people who wrecked.  I was a bad person.

I did take a cue from my procrastinating hubby and waited until last night to waterproof my tent.  It was raining outside so I set up my tent in the foyer (grand word pertaining to the weird, pointless space in my house near one of my front doors) and started spraying the shit out of it with this stuff.  I had no idea what this stuff was made of, but by the time it was done, I had front door and back door open with two fans going and I STILL almost asphyxiated myself.  I was also high as a kite.  I swear to God that Harpo talked to me.  I shit you not.  Jeesh.  New rule:  Do not water-proof your tent inside the house.  Just sayin'.

Oh, and in case anyone wants to know wear the hubby got the marks on his neck . . . well, let's just say, my stun gun works and leave it at that.