Half Way to Moving Out

I recently read the following Facebook post by a mommy friend:

Today was…today...  “Jacob” turned nine today, and after getting in trouble for shooting a dart at his sister’s face, he felt the need to remind me that since he is now nine, he is half-way to moving out.

This made me both sigh and smile. Why are kids always so eager to grow up and move out? And (dare I admit) why am I sometimes so eager for them to move on with their life? It’s a crazy battle that plays out in all of our minds, depending on our mood and the number of “poop-head,” “booger-brains,” and “butt-face” labels slung about the house on any given day. I call these “white flag” days, and they generally end with Little Caesar’s pizza for the kids and a long, hot bath for me.

Now I have about as much expertise on this subject as the next middle-aged mom. I have nine “Jacobs” of my own, four of whom have already left home, with five more to go. Two live half-way across the country and two live half-way across town. Facebook, text messaging, email, and the good ol' telephone help, but I miss my "Jocobs" who have moved on, every single day.

 

As for the ones at home... Still too many "booger-brains" being flicked willy-nilly around our place for me to mourn the prospect of their leaving, but Paco and I do our best to deal with it all, one "booger-brain" a time. There are good days and there are white-flag days. Some days, one of our "Jacobs" figuratively stand at the front door with bags packed, prophesying impending freedom. Oh, the mixed emotions...

From the perspective of both parent and child (having lived both sides of this), leaving home is both wonderful and horrible. You have the freedom to fly, but now you have to flap your own dang wings—generally, a dilemma at one point or another.

 

As one prepares to set out into the wild blue yonder, society will be full of all sorts of helpful suggestions and conventional advice to commence this growing-up and moving-on endeavor--learn to balance a checkbook, change a tire, cook ramen noodles, blah, blah, blah... That's all important. But what I'd like to offer is the not-so-conventional advice to start our little "Jacob's" off on life's path. Here goes...

 

(Disclaimer--I take credit for none of these...but they all make me smile.)

 

Therapy is expensive. Bubble wrap is cheap. You choose.

 

To make a long story short, don't tell it.

 

If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging.

 

A penny saved is...not much...so...

 

The quickest way to double your money is to fold it over, and stick it back in your pocket.

 

Unlike people, laundry should be segregated by color.

 

Two wrongs don't make a right, but three lefts do.

 

If you get a paper on your windshield that says "parking fine" it doesn't mean you did a good job.

 

Don't bite the hand that looks dirty.

 

And lastly...

 

Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved.

 

 

So slow down. Enjoy the mystery. And did I mention, slow down???

 

One of my kiddos turns eighteen in a few months, and I'm already grieving this prospect. When he does leave, the balance will shift to more kids grown and gone than at home. Not sure I'm ready yet for this, but you know how the old saying goes: Ready or not...

 

 

Tamra Torero is Wife to Paco, Momma to nine, Grandma of two, Bakery Manager, author of Shayla Witherwood: A Half-Faerie Tale and co-author of a Christmas novel, The Lost Son, with her son, Preston Norton. The day her first son left home she cried for an hour straight, ate an entire box of fudge-covered Oreos...solo...then took in two stray dogs. When they refused to answer to the name, Preston or Punky Doodle she cried some more. Today, she finds herself half-way to an empty nest.