The years go faster, these days, and putting feelings into words is oddly becoming more difficult. This song is running through my head as I try to write. The mood is as significant as the lyrics. Perhaps listening to it as you read will help distract you from the lack of poetry in this post.
It's the new year-- almost half way through the school year. It's the first time I can remember trying to slow down the clock and having the ball get stuck on it's way down, leaving us in limbo just a bit longer. My chest tightens as I type, so excited for our boy and so nervous about what comes next. He got his first college acceptance yesterday, which a significant scholarship attached. I'm sure there are more acceptances on the way, and probably more money, too. He's worked hard. He has gifts and has learned to use them wisely. He is also bigger than this place-- you can just tell he's going to do things that make the world better, and he's going to do it with integrity and kindness. I know he is ready to go-- I see it in him every day. But as his mom, who also sees the little boy in his ghostie sweatpants smiling up at me through Legos... I am not at all ready to not see him every day. I know it's life, and it's what I did to my parents 28 years ago, and it's so much better than him not going... but the selfish, mumma part of my heart cries every time I think about it.
And so I cried last night, after the ball did reach it's destination on time, and I'm crying again now writing this. I suspect I'll cry at tomorrow's ski race, and throughout the rest of this year, in fact. First of the lasts and all that... but they are all part of the rights of passage I make as his mother. His annoyance by my emotions are part of his rights of passage (although I never experienced that-- my mother becomes Spock when she hurts, so I never really knew if or how deeply it bothered her that her oldest was leaving.)
Change. It's going to be the theme of 2016. Life will look very different in a year, and then it really won't be long until it is just the two of us here, waiting for the kids to come home... but that is more than I can handle on this first day of 2016. 2018 is another heartache for another New Year's Day.
Plans for ths year-- resolutions, if you must-- stick to the theme. I need to get my health under control. More walking, fewer empty calories. I don't think I'm quite ready to completely quit sugar, but I think about it more and more often. My goal is to be thoughtful and deliberate again about those calories-- am I ingesting them because I want them or just because? I need to get back to regular walking. My lungs aren't happy, and I think the lack of exercise is a significant factor. I need to be able to keep up with these children of ours, who are going places and need me to be able to come to them.
It's time to apply for my MSW. Re-reading this blog, even the few posts I've written in recent years, is all the evidence I need. This is where I'm being called, and it's time to get the training and the credentials to do the work properly. It's going to be a lot of work, but is anything worth doing any other way? Starting a program in the fall could give me the distraction I need to help adjust to the changes here.
I also hope to be creative more this coming year. I haven't had the same energy to scrapbook or take pictures or write, which I know is due to all the emotional baggage I'm carrying, some for others and some for myself. It's time to accept what I can't change, and make the changes I can. And sometimes that means publishing a less than stellar post, just to get the ball falling...
Happy New Year. I hope it brings you the change you need.