Celebrating Women for the Real World



OMG! I Was Almost One Of THOSE Moms!

See, I told you I’d be back.  Second post in as many days!  Score!  Since I’ve been away for so long, it’s a lengthy one!  Lucky you!

One of the things that was going on in my life over the summer was the moving out of my daughter when she turned 19.  Prior to her moving out she was living at home an attending community college.

What happens when a sweet, pretty, smart 19 year old girl meets a 23 year old smart, good looking, got it together kind of guy?  Well, no, they didn’t get married, she didn’t get knocked up, but they did move in together.  OK, STOP!  Don’t get all judgemental on me, or on her for that matter.  Things like that make me stabby (it’s a word)! 

Would I have liked her to marry 1st?  Of course.  But then again, your talking to a person on her 2nd marriage.  Would I rather them live together first and make sure they can stand each other over jumping into marriage then getting a divorce?  My answer is yes.

Anyway, back to the title.  The dynamics of our (hers and mine) relationship has changed.

I don’t know if I have the time or the writing etiquette to spell out how it’s changed, but it has.  We did so much together and she was always my helper when she lived at home.  She was my only girl lucky enough to be born between two boys.  We shopped together, cooked together, watched our shows together, and the list goes on and on.  Even though we did all of this together, there was still the mother/daughter understanding.  I was somewhat in control (yeah, right.  I’d be rolling my eyes at that too).

Now that she’s gone, it is hard for me not to call her on Saturday night and ask what she’s doing, who she’s with, who’s driving, what time they will be home, etc., etc.  I also had to get used to not talking with her every single day.  She’s busy, I’m busy, time goes by and low and behold, before we know it, it’s been a week since we’ve talked. 

Again, back to the title.  Have I ever mentioned about my A D D?  Well, now you know.

Anyway, last week I realized I hadn’t heard from her.  It was Friday.  I called, she didn’t answer.  Usually she’ll call me back when she’s available.  Two hours went by – nothing.  I texted.  An hour went by – nothing.  By this time my “mother-dar” was going “ding, ding, ding!  Something is not right.”  I called again.  She finally answered.  She sounded like shit!  I couldn’t tell if she’d been crying, upset, sick, or if perhaps aliens had come in and invaded her body!  I finally figured out that she was sick.  She told me her fever hadn’t gone below 102 since Monday.  Remember, it’s now Friday.

I went into mom mode.  You know, what have you eaten, taken, done, not done, drank, etc., etc.  When she told me that during the day she ate one, as in uno, singular chicken nugget and drank ONE, again, as in uno, bottle of water, I went nuts.  I was all “do you have Gatorade?”  “No.”  “Do you have Sprite?”  “No.”  “Do you have chicken soup?”  You guessed it, “No.”

Then I asked where boyfriend was.  We’ll just refer to him as “Z”.  He was working 12 hour shifts all week and wouldn’t get off until midnight.  Now hold onto your hats.  Ask me what Z does.  Go ahead.  Ask.  He is an EMT!  In other words, he saves peoples life….daily!  I asked if he knew she was sick.  She said no.  Why?  She didn’t tell him. 

OK, wouldn’t YOU know if the person you were laying next to in bed (still trying to grasp that) had a 102 fever?  Her answer to that with all her 19 year old wisdom, “He’s a man, mom, of course he won’t notice!”  See, I did raise her well.

While we were talking she started hacking up a lung and telling me her chest and back hurt. I decided I needed to go over there. 

I changed from my jammies at 9:30 p.m. on a rainy night, went to the store and stocked up on “sick” food, then headed to her apartment.  When I got there she was burning with fever, wearing sweat pants, a long sleeved shirt, a sweat shirt, and was wrapped in two blankets!  (Yeah, I guess I didn’t succeed in the “what not to do when you have a fever” lesson).

I got her unwrapped, food and liquid in her, medicated her, then when the fever came down to 100, I asked her where the vacuum was.  Yes, I’m ashamed to admit it.  I was THAT mom.  I quickly rescinded my comment, but the damage was done.  She gave me that “this is my place, damn it” look.  I deserved it.

So, I made sure she was OK, gave the dog food and water, took him out, then I went home.  I did not vacuum, sweep, or do the dishes.  I did not pick up the empty water bottles, fold the towels, or anything of the like.  This?  This is BIG!  Like HUGE!  Like a jumbo jet landing in the Hudson huge.  With all my OCD tendencies, I was able to respect that this is HER place, not mine! 

Snaps for me?!?

Sorry for the lengthiness of the post.  It’s been a while.  I’ve saved up a lot of words to bore entertain you with!  See you tomorrow?

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Comments

  1. * Jill says:

    Woman! I am so proud of you! I don’t know how you did it. Is is VERY difficult to keep it shut and let it be theirs.

    | Reply Posted 8 years ago
  2. * Kami says:

    Ok. Why did she not call you and tell you she was sick?! She’s in trouble! And EMT boy should have noticed! 😉

    Poor baby. I hope she’s better.

    And I am very proud of you for not cleaning. I would have been all over that.

    | Reply Posted 8 years ago


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