Greg Smith, 4th grade (2001) -- beginning horn student.
Steve had a gig last night, so dinner consisted of leftovers -- turkey, dressing, and mashed potatoes, to be exact. Yes, nearly two weeks after Thanksgiving, we're still partaking of the traditional meal. Ah, Thanksgiving -- the Energizer Bunny of holiday leftovers! Long after the Halloween candy and Valentine's chocolates have either been consumed or thrown out, we will still have frozen turkey and all the trimmings taking up space in our downstairs freezer, conveniently divided into single-serving portions.
Some folks get tired of leftover turkey. I don't. December is always the busiest month of the year for musicians, leaving little time to sleep or even breathe, let alone cook. We are, therefore, thankful for leftovers of any kind. When others see Thanksgiving receding into the distance in their rear view mirrors, we still have the image in our side mirror (the one stamped with "Objects may be closer than they appear") or, at least, in our freezer.
Lately I've begun to realize that it's not just the holidays sneaking up on me in the side mirror. It's also my son's impending graduation. I haven't visited this subject in awhile, mainly because, despite my best efforts to "keep it in perspective," I'm beginning to get a little emotional. I really thought I would be cool about it. I swear I will not be the basket-case mom wringing her hands and sobbing uncontrollably when her baby walks across the stage in May to accept his diploma. That's just not me!
No, I've always been pretty much the "cool mom." When Greg was little, and we left him with babysitters, we never made a big scene about leaving him. We just hugged him, said, "We'll see you in a couple of hours -- have fun!" and off we went. No tears, no drama, just kept it matter-of-fact. As a result, we navigated the "separation anxiety" years very smoothly. "Drama Queen Mom"? Not me.
Nor was I the "Helicopter Mom" -- hovering over my child, constantly badgering teachers, caregivers, and other parents with a barrage of questions and instructions. "Make sure he eats a green vegetable, but not peas -- they give him hives; If you take him swimming, make sure he wears sunscreen, swim goggles, and a t-shirt when he's not in the pool -- by the way, will there be a lifeguard? -- Call me immediately in case of an emergency: here's my cell number, his doctor's cell number, our insurance card, and a power-of-attorney." Casting caution to the wind, I simply dropped him off, cheerfully told him to be good and have fun, and then waved goodbye. Some might call me naive, but I always trusted other parents and relatives. And you know what? They never gave me a reason not to.
Of course, "Cool Mom" is not to be confused with "Super Mom." I never once volunteered to be Room Mother. Cooking, sewing, and party planning are not my strong suits. That exalted position was reserved for the stay-at-home moms whose culinary and sewing skills rivaled those of Martha Stewart. I remember one mom who not only made her kids' Halloween costumes, but made her own patterns. Each year was a different Disney movie theme: Toy Story, The Little Mermaid, Aladdin . . . I had to wonder how she managed to purchase the copyrights. Another mom made elaborate Halloween treats by painting "bones" on latex gloves and filling them with popcorn. Why didn't I think of that? The best I could do was show up to the fall party with a store-bought jug of lemonade and a bag of ice. Martha-Stewart-Super-Mom? Not me.
But I did find the coolest place --literally -- for Greg's 12th birthday party. Jaegerz Lasertag and Paintball in the Hunt Midwest, Inc. caves (north of the Missouri River) was such a big hit, we went there two years in a row! And I may not have been very creative with my contributions to the 4th Grade Hawaiian Party (a jug of Hawaiian Punch, what else?), but I sure made an impression when my Young Audiences group performed our "Music of the Battlefields" program for the upper grades at Greg's school. "Cool Mom"? You betcha.
Flash forward to a few weeks ago when, as I was talking to a friend about Greg graduating, tears began to well up and my voice cracked. So uncool! But there it was -- my inner Superdramahover Mom breaking through. I laughed at myself and told my friend, "This is ridiculous! He's not even leaving home -- he's going to junior college!" Yes, Cool Mom must confess -- her baby will still be living at home next year.
But the dynamic will be different. Don't tell me it won't; I know better. Next Thanksgiving I'll be having my turkey dinner with my adult son. That's why this year -- for the first time ever -- we did not have dinner with any extended family members. We went out to dinner that day to a nice restaurant -- just the three of us. Then we had the big family dinner on the Sunday after Thanksgiving . . . how else could we stock up on leftovers to get us through the month of December?
I expect our Christmas celebrations will be pretty much the same as they've always been. But, after this year, I don't expect holidays to ever feel quite the same again. Just like the graduation announcements I ordered two months ago, the last high school class schedule changes, and the last of the parent-teacher conferences, this holiday season is one more reminder of the sea change that is coming. It's creeping up on me in the side mirror. Objects are closer than they appear.
No comments:
Post a Comment