Seperation Anxiety

My ten year old was so excited this morning, he could hardly contain himself. As he packed for his class's overnight trip at this neat local nature camp tonight, he was amazed that he wasn't even hungry for breakfast. Now this kid hates waking up - not because he's tired but because he wakes up so ravenous every morning. As I dropped my two youngest kids off at school, I felt my stomache suddenly lurch. My little man skipped toward his friends loaded down with duffle, sleeping bag, tackle and fishing rod. My daughter turned around suddenly. "Bye, Mom! I love you!" she shouted unashamed. My throat got tight as I waved and tried to smile. Darn this separation stuff! My stomach ached all the way home. Jeeze, I haven't felt like this since,.... two hours ago! That was when the gold '97 clunker zipped away in the rain carrying my high schoolers who took just a millisecond to beep goodbye. I crossed myself as I always do (having a child learn to drive is an exercise in pure faith!), and I slowly trudged in to wake up the little guys. I wondered what Rob was doing in India, and my stomach did it again.
Now, I really didn't realize that I was this bad. When it comes to comparing myself with the "normal parents", I know I am a freak. I feel tugs at my heart and stomach each and every day. This also happens when my husband leaves for work in the morning. But I have gotten better. Most of my friends are in serious party mode on the first day of school. I've learned to just nod silently when they say, "Aren't you ready for school to start?" Why cause an uncomfortable pause in the conversation? After all, they wouldn't know what to do with me if I told them the whole truth.
I think I did great when Rob left for India last Saturday afternoon. I carefully planned for the goodbye all morning. Once he zipped out of sight, I quickly tossed a basketball at one of the kids and the somber mood of the four little Daytons was quickly dissapated. Not bad, I thought. Then Rob suddenly roared back down the driveway, and he sprinted into the house. All five of us stood there silent with our mouths hanging open. He then proudly trounced out of the house holding up a neck tie as if it was a great prize. "Knew I forgot something!" he shouted. "Love you all!" Then he was gone. Then the damn broke. The basketball rolled slowly down the driveway after him along with all five of our hearts. And this time, no one raced after it to pick it up.
Seperation has always been a thing with me. I guess it's from watching my sibs all leave for college when I was 6, 9, 10 and again at 11 years old. I felt so lonely watching them each go. It was hard for me being so young back then. Then when Rob and I were finishing our educations, we actually spent 4 years (actually 46 months, but who's counting?) in a long distance relationship. There were times when we didn't see each other for six weeks at a time. And I always tried not to imagine him getting in a car crash or finding some other girl as he drove out of sight. I think some of that "being left behindness" will always be with me.
Now sad as it is, I still think that this quality is a good thing to realize about oneself. And this year, as my oldest races through her senior year toward college, I know that I will need to brace myself for the biggest challenge yet. I will be extra careful not to hold her back with my personal feelings. Just because I quit full time litgation practice to stay home with the kids doesn't mean they have to be tethered to me forever. On the contrary, I was the one who pushed her to go on that Europe trip last spring break. She's a homebody, and it nearly killed us both when she left, but it really was an awesome adventure for her. Sigh! I really don't think this is going to get any easier as time goes by. And all the teenage moodiness, tantrums and hormones really don't help one bit! Multiply that by four, Laur, and that's the gig you've got.
So in closing, Dear Readers, take a minute to examine how you deal with seperation. Are goodbyes no big deal for you? Or do they bring you to your knees? Are some harder than others? I suspect that is the case for most of us. And I also guess how we deal with seperation will change as we mature and, oh no!, grow up. I would like to quote that great poet Eminem who hit this emotional lyric with precision:
"Life is neverending pain,
so you get the lidocane,
and you watch them leave
out the window
guess that's whey they call it window pane."
Maybe rap is closer to normal, everyday life than we "adults" would ever care to admit. Have a great day, Lauren Posted 10:32 EST