Sold to
Job Ends before Mom’s Ready
There are a few sure things in a mother’s life: when you soak in the bathtub, someone knocks on your door; when you are sick with the flu, no one notices until dinner; and when your teenager goes off to college, you struggle with doubts and fears.
It is said that a mother is not a person to lean upon, but a person to make leaning unnecessary. But, just as my son stopped leaning, I asked “Why?” I shouted, “Come back!” Not knowing if I had done my job well enough. Worrying about what my next job would be.
As I listened to orientation, before my son Todd’s first semester of college, I realized that as my world was changing, so was his. I heard lectures from college deans filled with assurances that my child would survive in his new college home. Student representatives who did not know my son claimed that he would go to classes, study hard, and succeed. How could my son possibly succeed when he had his grandmother’s love of socializing and his grandfather’s refusal to hurry? How could this child who slept too late and always forgot to feed the dog, remember to get up for classes and feed himself?
With a smile hiding my concern, I helped my son load down his battered Ford Bronco with one rarely ridden bicycle, one very loud alarm clock and a ton of stereo equipment. He then hugged me good bye, promised that he would study, assured me that he would not have too much fun, and zoomed off to his new life.
After his departure the next few days proved easy for me. I didn’t miss wet towels mildewing on the bathroom floor or dirty shoes tracking onto my clean carpet. The kitchen counter tops stayed clean and I could go to bed early. Then, that first weekend came and there was no swim meet to watch, no party to chaperone, no date to meet and approve of or frown upon. My college bound child now swam in an unfamiliar pool, partied without chaperones, and dated someone I had never met.
To my surprise, grocery shopping proved a particularly difficult habit to break, even though I had suddenly gone from buying food for three to buying food for no one (I put “take-out” on speed dial). Wednesday, my day to buy groceries, arrived and as a creature of habit, I drove to Randalls. I glanced down and saw no hint of the grocery list I once carried. The list I held no longer included big bags of corn chips, gallons of milk, or dozens of extra large eggs. The dismal list I held now reminded me to buy 100-watt light bulbs for my failing eyesight, gel-filled cushions for my aching heels, and Gingko for something…I don’t remember what.
While wandering down the
frozen food section, I daydreamed. I didn’t
need to reach for the Hungry Man TV Dinners as snack foods.
I didn’t have to search for
Motherhood is the unglamorous job of raising a responsible adult. I tried to teach my son how to act, how to deal with failure and live with success. When he fell, I stayed close and picked him up. When he triumphed, I stepped aside and clapped for joy. Now, my forced retirement came unceremoniously after only 18 short years of work. My workplace would be strangely quiet. No longer did I have to listen to footsteps tromping up the stairs, music pulsing out of the walls, and voices yelling for help at inconvenient times. Somewhere deep in my “feel needed” soul I knew I would miss those sounds.
Somehow, regardless of his
readiness to party, drift toward procrastination, and tendency to oversleep, my son did
succeed in college. As he had promised, he adapted to his new life of responsibility. He conquered his
Because my job of raising a son was over. It was a job well done.