Morning Suprises

The world may have just stopped for a brief moment. I definitely heard the sigh of an angel nearby. Even my girl looked at me with a raised eyebrow. My seventeen-year old boy, as he was gathering his stuff and getting ready to slide the door shut on the van said good-bye.

Then he said
I love you, Mom.
Big smile and all.

Good Lord, I thought I was gonna cry right there in front of the high school. I think my day just might be complete; for that matter, maybe my life. Is this really what motherhood is about? Those brief moments in time that make the dirty bathroom and piles of laundry dug out of the closet worth it?

I can't decide if my life is really that pathetic or just really that special.

He's off to his big competition. I know he's nervous, but I know he is also very, very excited and counting on me to get his uniform dropped off in time (and yes, the pants have been perfectly {?} hemmed with the magic of some kind of fabric tape). The whole time I was driving him to school I was wondering why I was having to bring this uniform in later anyway. The orginal plan was so it wouldn't get wrinkled throughout the school day. Then I saw him hauling his guitar in with him. So he can carry that guitar around half the day but not a uniform on a hanger? Obviously, an electric guitar in a case is much cooler than khaki pants and a shirt.

Of course, none of that matters now.
All is right with the world.
Those kids are something else.

Yesterday I was helping the middle with an already late project... lined him up with a folder and thirty cents to take care of business at the library. I padded him on the shoulder and said One of these days you're not gonna have your mom helping you out with every little detail. He thought for a moment and said,

I can't decide if that's a good thing or not.

Boy, isn't that the truth. I know my mom is always there for me, but I also know at some point she had to cut the cord and let me loose. One of these days I'm going to have to talk to her about that. My dad, too. My husband refers to the whole raising kids thing as letting out the leash. We let it out a little at a time, reel it back in as needed, and prepare for the day when we completely remove it.

Of course, our daughter no doubt feels as if her leash is the shortest of all.
Then again, the girl's only twelve.
At this point, there's zero guilt about keeping her close to home.

Besides, I know she loves me... right?