Kryptonite, Dr. Seuss and Jar Head the #Marine

This post has taken me three days to write. STOP. Wait. Why? I wrote that sentence 23 days ago, today.

It took me 3 days to write this post and 20 days before I even wanted to look at it again. Of course,  much of it isn’t current now so I am revising. WARNING: this post is sprinkled liberally with Dr. Seuss quotes because the man makes me feel happy, dammit. Leave me alone.

When I originally wrote this post on August 2, my sweet yet irascible baby-18, newly graduated,  and now known as Recruit: Scott, Jared- was nearing his date of departure for boot camp. He had joined the Marines. Now I know what this means:

“Poor empty pants
With nobody inside them.”
― Dr. Seuss

Jared n’ Sam

Between my first post at the beginning of July and my attempt at the second post right before he left, I  slid into a mild depression.

“When you’re in a Slump,
you’re not in for much fun.
Un-slumping yourself
is not easily done.”
― Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

This was a surprise to no one but me, of course. The events of the past year, topped off by his departure, would probably have put anyone into a mild #coma. I was lucky, all I got was mild depression.

I was caught unawares. It was only after I described what I was feeling and what was going on in my life to my boxing buddy that he pointed out that I was mildly depressed because Thing 2 was leaving for the Marines.

I have three sons. Joshua, the oldest, and Jared are 18 months apart. The picture below is not of them but I could not help myself cause’ that’s five types of crazy, right there.

Random Babies

It took me the longest time to understand why people looked slightly green around the gills when I would tell them how old the boys were and how far apart in age when they were little. I can understand why I aroused such curiosity, especially because I looked much younger than what I was. Even so, I was quite young, having married at 19 and then giving birth to my first son at 20.

These conversations would take place usually in public, perhaps at the post office or grocery store. Meanwhile seeing me just slightly distracted in conversation the bonny lads of course took full advantage and  amused themselves by popping out of reach as fast as possible then alternately  zooming unhindered around the room, playing  swing on my arm and koala on my leg–stopping only to stare up with maniacal eyes–then with shouts and laughter at my rising ire begin hitting one another and commence rolling around on the floor. All of this activity would usually quickly, and without warning, escalate into an all out fight between the two, which I was then expected to referee. I would get sympathetic pats and even then didn’t realize that people didn’t usually purposely space the birth of their children quite so closely together. Not if they wanted to sleep or go anywhere ever in public again.

“Honey, our initially colicky and now precociously-walking-and-talking-at-7.5 months oldest son is in need of a sibling and I no longer have post-partum depression, let’s get pregnant!” said no sane woman to her husband ever.

I knew nothing about baby slings and eschewed the idea of baby swings and probably desperately needed Nanny 911 though I often wished for Mary Poppins and once, to get the kids to calm down, threatened that I would sell them to the Gypsies. They only believed me because I was talking on the phone and making arrangements in front of them and then packed up their little back packs. At least the charade kept them from continuing to hit one another on the head and bought me 45 minutes of strained yet utter silence, if not exactly quiet peace.

I called them Thing 1 and Thing 2 when they were young, and for very good reason. We read a lot of  Dr. Seuss and other stories. Josh could recite There’s a Wocket In My Pocket from memory. Reading to them truly was the only time I could manage to mesmerize them and simultaneously, me. Reading was our bond and lifted me during soggy bottom days like nothing else could. We read a lot. They messed a lot. They drove me crazy in a hundred different ways. In fact,  I am quite sure that after I became a mother I lost my mind (along with my heart) and recovered neither. Cheeky little bastards took all the best parts of me. But I digress.

I am keeping this part of the original post because I had a truly great July starting with posting my first blog post, ever:

The past several weeks have been amazing: I saved a client from B.F.E,  (ask me about that later) picked up boxing,  started trail running, and I tried out my new Blender Bottle of awesomeness for the first time this morning and shook chocolate protein shake all over myself.

And this:

I discovered a great blog, The Everywhereist.

And especially this: I received a potentially accidental complimentary pass to #mozcon via SEOMoz and got to crash the Stop Here! This is the Staff And Speaker Only Lounge! Yo, I ate lunch with cool people. I also  got a cold from which I am still recovering today (don’t worry, all better now). Oh and yes,  I am couch surfing. More on that later. I am, admittedly, subdued in feeling. I rocked July so why, you may ask, is the Bomber humming low and flying lazy?

[If you read the rest of the post, we know that answer now, don’t we.]

But wait. There’s more! Not only did Jared go into the Marines, but in the past two weeks my youngest son Jacob and I made the choice that he will have more opportunities to succeed if he moves in with his dad, who lives in Bellevue. At the same time, my oldest son is also heading to Bellevue so he can return to college and pick up where he was so rudely interrupted in his efforts by two surgeries and a battle of his own with depression.

I will wait for a moment while you digest this and the ramifications of what it might feel like to suddenly realize that your children have grown up and now they are pursuing, as they ought, the opportunities available to them.

I am helplessly, madly, crazy fierce in love with them. At times, having children makes me feel like that guy. You know, the human sacrifice victim that the muttering priest ruthlessly yanks, twists and pulls the heart out of to appease deity. FYI people, that’s not what I signed up for, but that’s what I got. And you know what makes me a sick puppy? Even knowing all about that heart rending thingy, I would turn around and do it all again.

As for Jared and the risks he may face? He is doing something he wants to do. He is taking his one life and using it for a purpose the best way he knows how.

And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)

KID, YOU’LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

So…
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O’Shea,
you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!”
― Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

S & G Ready for Batman

Change is coming, and change means loss as we transform and cease to be what we were, but fully become who we are meant to be. Bittersweet melancholy accompanies my sense of loss of the child he was, and I can never regain the days, but I am also infused with strong hope and pride. The sons of my heart stand in front of me, but not as the children I still carry.  Had I savored the days longer would I feel any differently?

S & Baby G Measure Up Their Mustaches

As a mother, I hold the three in the same love, but a different view. Jared’s parting is the more poignant because of the distance, deliberate challenge and potential future risk to life and limb involved. I find his bravery noble, but wish there was no need for cause. The view I have gained of this one young man, I have gained from the vantage point of holding him in my body, carrying him in my arms, nursing him, sheltering him with my life and watching him grow. This is a uniquely different perspective than anyone else may claim to have.  This knowing is a privilege and also a source of pain, for I am alone in it. It is unique to just my son and I, but even he cannot share it fully with me, although we have been together from the beginning of his existence.  I greatly mourn the passing of the years of his innocence, even as I revel in the fierce beauty and strength of the man I raised him to be. I deeply miss their childhood, yet still I  rejoice in the men they will become. Semper Fi, babies. Keep the faith.

Tags: , , , , , , ,