Just recently Man/Boy went on his first trip far away from me and Hubby.
Previous to this he’d been on the usual camping trips with the school or with Scouts but to places between 30 mins and 4 hours away and for times ranging from overnight to a week.
This trip was only a week but it was to a whole different continent.
Big ol’ milestone!
He was nervous, we were nervous, his fellow students were nervous, I’m sure his teachers were nervous…the whole plane could have flown on sheer nervous energy alone.
There were a lot of positives – he has a great relationship with both the teachers who were leading the trip – it was drama, which is a subject he loves – it was from SA to the UK which is a journey he’s done with us a few times – and finally it was affordable because we could pay in instalments. We’re Scottish – it’s genetic for shit like that to rate high with us.
We had the usual amount of African fun getting foreign currency but that’s for another blog.
We made sure he packed enough pants and I was pleasantly surprised to find that all but one pair had been worn – result! We also made sure he had a toothbrush, shower gel, deodorant etc in case he remembered at any point to clean himself to any degree.
I’m sure he managed to have a shower or two during the week but it was all kind of negated by the fact he threw up in his hands on the plane home and so by the time I got him he could make your eyes water gently. And of course, it’s an experience that his teacher won’t forget in a hurry.
All in all, he had an amazing time. How could he not? He was away from his parental overlords with a pocket full of flash money and no-one to tell him how much Haribo is too much Haribo.
(the answer is ‘more than a handful’ just so’s you know)
The only downside he could come up with was that at the end of every day he didn’t get to come and home and chat to me. Which was very very sweet and almost made my heart grow a few sizes!
Most people seemed to be more concerned as to how Hubby and I would cope without him. Various people took great delight in telling us that this was the beginning of the end and the next thing we knew he’d be off living his life as far away from us as possible. They seemed to think we were at the top of some Slippery Slope of Doom and all they needed to do was grab some popcorn and watch us crash and burn.
We – as usual – disappointed people.
Hubby and I got along fine on our own. We had time to chat and go out to dinner and for long walks. We laughed and argued and watched TV just like everyone else and have decided that we’ll probably be fine when Man/Boy finally leaves for good.
The thought of Man/Boy leaving home doesn’t seem to scare me the way other people think it should. I want him to. I want him to head off and do stuff I know nothing about with people I know nothing about in places I’ve never been.
(if it’s anything like my young adulthood then the less the parents know, the better!)
That’s a big part of my job as his parent, isn’t it? To get him ready to bugger off and leave me. To make sure he can survive and hopefully thrive out there on his own.
I want him to want to leave me.
But hopefully, by giving him love and support and listening to him, he’ll want to come back and tell me about it.
Hopefully, we can chat and laugh and catch up like other adults who enjoy each others company do.
Except of course I’ll feel the need to constantly wind him up about the time he threw up in his hands on an 8-hour plane flight…that’s the other part of my job…