It's the little things

Sometimes I forget how grown my kids are. It's not hard really...my brain stopped paying attention somewhere around 8 or 9 years old. So when I am faced with the fact that they are now 18 and 14, I feel a little like the kid who has to eat Lima beans for the first time. For the record I LOVE Lima beans! As life around me goes on and my sons continue to assert themselves in this crazy world, I silently cry inside wishing for the days when they wanted me to hug and kiss them and begged me to tickle their back. The days when they fought over who would sit in my lap or who got shotgun on the trip to the store. I am certain that most, if not all, mother's go through this ritual of losing their children to adulthood. We always want to know that we are needed and those endless nights of prayer and worry actually counted for something. In this, women are at a disadvantage over men, as men seem to lack the "worry" gene. A mother's will worry about every nick,scrape, scratch and cut. A father's will dust the kid off and tell them it builds character. If  little Timmy falls and hurts his arm, Mom's know it's broken and prepare to get him to the emergency room. Dad's will assess the injury and if there is no bone poking out of the skin, it's "just a scratch" and usher little Timmy back out side to play.
                  
I digress. While I am amazed and in awe at how grown my children have become I still long for the days when they actually wanted to be part of my world. Every day when my youngest goes to school I say: "Have a good day, be safe, I love you, and I'll see you when you get home" to which his reply is "uh huh". Now that he's in high school, gone are the days of  "Oh Mom guess what I did in class today?" Him saying I love you back is a distant memory and at this point I'm not sure if it's a real memory and a dream I once had. Every once in a while I get his consent to get and give a hug. I hold on until he has to peel me off!  When I was in the hospital I would text both kids and ask them how their day was, what they did that was fun...the things that I would ask them directly if I was home.  Replies from either child was few and far between. I knew in my heart of hearts they were playing video games and my texts were merely intrusions, like a gnat buzzing about their faces. When my oldest took off for the weekend, I knew my youngest would be in the house alone. Normally he looks forward to being free from his brother and his dad. But this time was different. So I texted him......
Me: You doing alright without your brother?
Him: okaaaay
Me: I'll be home later. Yay! I'm excited to see you again. I missed you!
Him: Ku
Me: Gramma is bringing me home.
Him: Kk
Me: I love you
Him: luv u 2
Me: Thanks! xoxoxo
Him: It will never happen again.

When I finally did get home he was on the couch, the TV playing, he had the laptop on his lap and headphones on. He managed enough effort and kindness to assist his grandmother with my bags and to assist me into my chair. A quick kiss on the cheek of his grandma and he was back under headphones and laptop.
                                                               
I've had 14 years of practice with him so I know that if I wait, I'll eventually hear what he wants me to hear. So I waited. It didn't take long... although  his words were telling me that he "rage quit" his game a few times and he was so frustrated with the internet and felt stupid for not knowing what the CSV number on his debit card was for a purchase he tried to make and how that really pissed him off-- the real message---was that he missed me and was so glad I was home and never to worry him again like that. This ultimately played out by his "so how ya been" inquiry the next morning. It's the little things that parents in general hold on to so tightly that we hurt ourselves. Those stolen moments when they forgot they hated you, those fleeting seconds when they lean into your hug and don't pull away first, those are the moments when you realize you are still very much a part of their lives and always will be.