Last year at Thanksgiving I found myself deeply upset because I couldn’t catch a moment with my 36 year old son, who visited his sister for several days. I hadn’t seen him for 6 or 7 months and I had expected he would come “home” to visit, but his slate was full before he arrived and mom time was not on the list. He agreed that in the future, he would be sure to make time to have breakfast one day – just the two of us.
This year, we set up a time for breakfast before he came home, and we had that breakfast this morning, the day after our Thanksgiving gathering. It was a positive time and I learned more about what is going on in his life, and shared what is up with me. Then, as I dropped him back off at his sister’s house, I said to call me if they were playing cards or a game I could join in, and he agreed. This afternoon I found myself fretting that there might be no call. My “boy” is 40 minutes away and I am not included in the activities.
I had received exactly what I asked for, but it wasn’t enough! I’m unsure what is at play. I don’t miss my son terribly when he’s at his home, 8 hours away. I’m thrilled that he and his sister are so close. I have a full life of my own. It’s completely rational that he would want to spend time with local friends his own age.
So why this bereft feeling in my heart?
I really don’t get it. I think I’m in a great place and then I am blindsided by these leftover feelings from raising young children(?) Wherever they come from, these feelings are difficult to shake. And they make no sense.
This year, I will not share my disappointment. I will get busy cooking. I will practice my fiddle. I will take a walk. I will spend time with friends. I’ll go listen to some local music with my husband.
As time unfolds, I will continue to sustain positive relationships with all 3 of my children – without (or despite) that clingy aspect rearing its ugly head. I know how fortunate I am that I have positive relationships with my children.
Some days are just not easy.
8 hummingbird way 