The Day

I feel like I should introduce myself.  It's been so long since I've blogged that I think that is appropriate. My name is Suzanne, and I'm the mom looking sort of gal in the white sweater.  My husband Tim (in the aqua sweater which he has now thrown away because it isn't "his style") and I have five beloved children.  I am pretty sure this is the last family picture we have taken together.  It was at my third child Katie's high school graduation last spring, and I think it's a decent picture despite a solid case of nobody knowing which camera to look at.  How do the Star Couples on the Red Carpet do it?  Do they plan out which direction they are going to look?  Do they talk it out beforehand?  Is it just a symbiotic thing that happens with practice?  We could use some tips.

The point of putting this picture up here is to point out that THE DAY has come.  The day has come that I have long long dreaded.  We had the three oldest children in under three years, and it seemed that people began remarking almost as soon as the third one arrived:  "Just wait until they are all three adolescents!" or "What are you going to do when they all need braces?" or "How are you going to pay for all three in college at once?"

  But what nestled in my heart even back then, like an uncomfortable burr that imbeds itself on your sleeve long after the hike is over was, "How am I going to let the three of them go?  They'll leave as quickly as they came.  I will have to say goodbye to all three in only three short years!"

And that has happened.  Today.  From Five to Two.  It's not funny and there's no humor to be found, and that in and of itself says a lot.  I can't even find joy in my reduced laundry pile.   I have nothing to say, except I'm grateful to God for the chance to be their mom.

"These Are Good Days, Mom"

"These are good days, Mom."


This is what my 17 year old son Zach said to me this morning.


YES....it IS a snow day today.  And contrary to what you would expect, Twin Cities Metro snow days are extremely RARE, despite the fact that, well...we live in the Twin Cities, which is in Minnesota, which is way further north than I EVER thought I'd live.  This is maybe the fourth or fifth in the thirteen years I've been sending kids off to school.  


And I did make a big delicious breakfast of bacon, egg and cheese casserole, coffee cake, strawberries, hash browns with onions AND orange julius's for everyone's leisurely dining pleasure.  


AND, basketball practice was canceled tonight.


AND Zach hadn't done all his homework for today, although he was just getting up to do it when the phone rang this morning.  Some people just have all the right moves.


AND...we have our health.


ALL these things are great, but something in his tone of voice told me that Zach meant something more.  He meant that these are precious days when we are all together.  Soon it won't be so.

  
His older brother Andrew (on right-circa 2000) decided yesterday which college he will attend.  I thought I'd feel a burst of relief, but now that the decision is done and the commitment made, I feel sad, because it's really going to happen.


  He's going to go.  

And what's more, he's going to be happy there....somewhere else....somewhere without ....US.


How in the world can that happen?  But it will!


"These are good days, Mom."  


and we neither one speak it but in our hearts we say, 

"And they are few."

This Cake's Done

(First of all, for those of you who are expecting a food post because of the title, you might want to click the little exit box or button now.  This isn't really about cake.  It's about being a mother, having a son and letting go.)

Do you know that particular moment when you are baking a cake and you take a peek in the oven, or maybe you can even tell by the smell in the kitchen, and you say to yourself that "this cake is done."  There is a particular point in time when you declare the baking process finished and the cake is baked, and you quickly take it out of the oven.


There are various clues....you poke it and it bounces back,  the sides pull away from the pan, the aroma is wonderful, it has settled a bit from it's highest "puff."


Well, a couple of weeks ago...I had a strange experience with my oldest son Andrew who is a senior in high school.  I had the sudden realization that...this cake is done!  This is what led up to it:  He was having a busy week and getting ready to leave town for the weekend on a college visit (without us), with lots to plan and prepare for, as well as a nervewracking (for me) meeting with the school superintendent about starting a Fellowship of Christian Athletes group at his school.


I kept poking at him..."Have you done this?"  "Have you packed this?"  "Did you email so and so?"  "Did you remember to...?" "Are you  ready for that meeting...do you know what you are going to say?"


He bounced back each and every time with a "Already did it, Mom" or "Yep" or "Got it covered, Mom."  


After about my 10th "check," he started to sigh.  He was very patient, but I could tell he was starting to...well... "pull away from the pan."  His meeting went well, all without his mother doing anything other than praying and asking everyone she knows to pray...in fact I have it from someone there that he was composed, respectful and firm (the perfect aroma).  He set up all his college meetings and packed appropriately......he didn't appear to need my support or prompts at all.  He was standing quite well on his own.


After he got back from his college weekend and told us of some of his disappointments there as well as the fun he had, I could see that he was settled and has an adult (realistic...unpuffed) view of the world around him.  


And right there, sitting at the kitchen island, I was surprised to have the same sensation I always have when I look at a cake and know the moment is right for it to come out of the oven. 
By the grace of God,
he's ready. 
He's good. 
He can handle what comes.  


I think this cake's done.  

(But I think I'll keep poking occasionally just to make sure!)