Where did the time go … And Who Am I?

Photograph on a mug taken at Hamley’s sits in my dressing room…

I kissed him goodbye, then a big hug… Then everything I had been practicing all morning, well for the last nearly 26.9 years, really ..Which is Not to cry! .. To keep it all in proportion … I was lost… As a huge supressed, blub forced its way out of my mouth without my agreement… He laughed, “I will be back soon Mummy” said our beautiful middle child, our son … I thought to myself - For God sake Natalie, I know this … I know how to do this.. Pull yourself together… I pulled away .. dabbed my eyes, right that is it, I went left and he went back upstairs to continue his ad hoc packing.. Last minute as ever, which is his style. Time was ticking before he had to leave to go and stay with his sister in Newcastle…  I had planned how I was going to deal with this latest exodus of one our children, the last one that was living at home. I was going to go shopping so that I would not see him leave, not see him walk out the house, leaving me behind… God knows I have done that enough times before, watching them walk away … That is hard… It does not matter how happy you are for your children as they move forward in their lives.. I feel that I am left behind wondering ‘Who am I?’ without them.

Seven years earlier we had done exactly the same thing for the first time.. Walking away from our 19 year old daughter in Westfield shopping centre when she moved to London to study English Literature at University. We had been sitting in a restaurant, just before, whilst she ate ‘mac & cheese’, we had just finished set up her student bed-sit and went for a bite to eat. I knew we were going to have to walk away from her and leave her to start the beginning of her own semi-independent life… She was full of anticipation, nervousness and excitement.. Thankfully when we were setting up her room earlier, one of the other students in the quarters had called to her to come into the kitchen and have a drink with him… Our daughter is nothing if not a socialite … She has always loved people, getting to know new things about them, embracing them into her life… So it gave me comfort to know that once she had finished her food… She would walk away from us and into something new, with someone new… Standing outside the restaurant, we hugged her goodbye with our backs to the way she was going to walk, her father released her and she walk in a semi-circle around us away down the concourse of Westfield … I walked forward my mind scrambling but trying to be strong … But then like a strong magnet pulling me and forcing me to turn my head to look back in her direction, she too had turned to look back in our direction and our eyes met… I smiled a strong smile, nodded with a bit of a wave and forced myself to turn away again.. It was a long journey home.

So today, I was not going to be in the house when he left… Four days before today, we had been saying goodbye to our youngest son for three months as he does a trip with the army to Kenya. The night before he left we had a big adult hug.. Me being as strong as I could, his enormously long arms wrapped around me, I left the room as fast as I could and the quiet tears rolled down my cheeks by the time I got to the top of the stairs… It is gruelling saying goodbye. The next morning when he left I had decided to stay in my bedroom so as not to upset him with any emotional goodbyes. I lay in my bed at 5.00am…. I had been awake for hours … Waiting for our beautiful youngest boy to leave the house and disappear on his exciting trip… I listened as he charged at full pelt from his bedroom flying up the stairs into the bathroom … At equal speed he flew back down the stairs to the front door, glazed doors were ripped open then the front door and out onto the street the door clunking behind him… I listen to the footsteps fading away into the distance … His gone…

All of your life you are encouraging your children to go forward in life to try things – be bold don’t miss the opportunity to try something new, driving them all over the place, cheering them on to embrace a new and exciting experience, encouraging them to be a happy independent person … But when they leave it is hard… ‘What is my purpose?’

Having avoided the last goodbye I find myself in a daze as I walking around the supermarket looking at all the things I usually buy, pizza’s that they can chuck in the oven when they come in hungry in the early hours of the morning after a long night out on the tiles, only to find when we come down in the morning the tray sitting in the hob, with bits of cooked cheese still stuck on it, left for us to wash! In reality this irritated me, now I am already smiling at the memory. I turn the corner and walk down the next aisle, I resist picking up 5 packs of bacon and the huge joint of meat that would feed us all to a good Sunday lunch with plenty of left-over’s to use in various ways and or for another midnight/early morning feast for the children. That is my job, isn’t it? Feeding the household making sure the fridge is full for any potential raiding that may happen day or night. I look down at the ‘small trolley’ I am now pushing, another first – the small trolley! I have put some organic Earl Grey tea in the trolley, I have no idea why, I don’t drink organic tea usually?  I wander up the next aisle – the booze aisle. This reminds me of the many, many parties and celebrations that we have had over the years and the fun and laughter we all had together; on the other hand it also reminds me of the children arriving back at the house long after we had gone to bed to party somewhere within house with their friends, these clandestine parties mostly start off good naturedly, with hushed voices and the odd loud giggle, but as the drinks flow the participants begin to get louder and louder and the traffic to the nearest loo takes on a stampede, with the endless sound of a flushing toilet from some corner of the house. I have never been a good sleeper until I know all the children are in the house, and by this I don’t mean all the young adults in the local area, which sometimes happens, I mean our children. So I lie in bed and hear the party getting revved up, I try and be a laid back parent and think ‘let them have a bit of a party, their friends will go soon’, but the party continues and I watch the clock as the hours tick by. My husband has an uncanny knack to be able to sleep through these events or so he says! Because in the mornings he looks just as knackered as me! I think he just says he sleeps - so he is not the one that has to go down and tell the revellers either shut up or ‘bugger off’! I do the ‘bugger off’ bit in a huge white towelling dressing gown with the hood up. This look has become synonymous in the children’s view to a horror event – I am in effect the white version of Grim Reaper coming down to ruin their fun!

Our youngest child was given a part in the Nativity play in his first year at primary school, on the car journey home from school, he announced that he had a great part in the school play… the Grim Reaper! I was obviously a bit confused by this revelation, but thought that perhaps the school was very progressive taking a more ‘ultramodern’ approach to the festive period? He was very proud of his character casting. His older sister was obviously as bemused as I was and continued to question him about the part, this investigation by her went on over tea, until she finally worked out what part he actually had – not the Grim Reaper but the Inn Keeper! Being only five he had never really come across an Inn Keeper, but we had had enough Halloween parties for him to identify what a Grim Reaper was. She naturally corrected him – He was utterly dismayed and cross at what he thought was a down-grading of his dramatic role and refused to play any other part other than the Grim Reaper, so when the time came for his dramatic performance with the tea-cloth on his head and dressed in robes with his shepherds crook, he was in his mind the Grim Reaper! A year later he was given the part of playing God. This meant that he had to stand on a chair with his arms held out. When I asked him at the end of the play if he liked playing God – He said ‘no it makes your legs hurt being God!’     

Now I was staring at the olives and hams, which are a favourite of our middle child, who really has quite the ‘fine palate!’… Of course, like any family there have been trauma’s along the way and many trying times – But much more funny memories..  Our middle child learning to ride a bike, the frustration that he found in doing it, backwards and forwards down the road trying to gain his balance and learning to ride in a straight line, not weaving all over the road…. ‘Come on you can do it ….’  We both shout at him… And then he did … Brilliantly, however, by this time he was so irritated by the whole process, that he suddenly executed a perfect stop, dismounted from the bike throwing his leg expertly over the bike… Bent down and with all his might picked the bike up in the air and threw it over the gate and into the field!... Which we found hysterical which irritated him even more…

One house we lived in had a long corridor, our daughter who was and is an avid reader knew that all the adult books were kept in my office which was at the end of this corridor, she was about 12 at the time, we would be sitting outside in the courtyard adjacent to the corridor and we would watch her sneaking along the corridor ducking down at each window to get to my office so that she could take one or two of the books upstairs to read secretly, on this particular occasion it was, ‘the silence of the Lambs’!

I have walked around the supermarket and managed to fill my trolley with a few bits and a great number of bottles of wine. Now queuing at the checkout still over thinking things and being very self-indulgent in wondering what the point of me actually is now? The tears started to well up in my eyes. I had to pretend that I was going to sneeze, when the cashier asked me if I was alright.. Really I am too pathetic…

Back home putting things away and pottering around the kitchen it is so quite I can hear no noise, no eruptions like our youngest bursting into the house at break-neck speed and charging up the stairs. There is no loud music coming from our other son’s room whilst he does his workouts. No daughter sitting in the kitchen regaling me with all her news and gossip.. All the plates are in the cupboard and the cutlery is in the draw as it should be, when they are here I am constantly telling them – dramatically – ‘I can’t cook if no one brings their plates, knives and forks back down here, where are all the glasses?’ The more I think about it the more -  I feel redundant…

I turn to the fridge it is 4.30pm, I am not the type of person who waits until it is six o’clock for a glass of wine.. 4.30pm is fine for me today… Before I get to the fridge the phone rings, I look at the screen – it is our daughter – I pick up .. ‘Hello Mummy – I am just ringing you to tell you that I have booked my flight to come back next week and we are all coming back with some friends to stay for ten days, there are some Halloween parties that we want to go to…’ We had a long conversation about everything she and her brother were doing in Newcastle and planning to do. I had to smile to myself… I realised that, of course they will always be back and I am so very thankful for that … Even though it will be party central here once again and the cutlery draw, particularly with forks will be empty  … It is who I am their mother … And so proud to be so …