“Oh, Please Don't Go! I'll Eat You Up, I Love You So!”

I feel like only parents and monsters can possibly understand the kind of love that is so strong (or maniacal) for which I'll "eat you up" seems appropriate. In addition to the threat of cannibalism, I've told the moppets that I love them so much that it hurts my heart sometimes, which they found insulting, but I find beautiful. It is one of the best feelings in the world. Completely different from my love for my husband, not stronger, just different. Perhaps it is the lopsided dynamic that makes it so different, perhaps it is all the wiping, (noses, faces, boo-boos, bottoms), or the responsibility, I'm not sure what it is exactly, but it is big and it is powerful.  God help the person who comes between a Mama and her baby. We love our children with the objective of creating loving, productive, thoughtful people who we will send out into the world to share their gifts and what they have learned with others. (Although I must admit that sometimes I wish the goal was figuring out a way to fold them up and put them in my pocket to in order to keep them near me at all times, but I realize that would be wrong and probably more than a little cumbersome!)

Oldest Daughter is home for the "summer" (only until mid-July, which is when summer is just getting started in my book). She recently graduated from an acting conservatory and is now preparing for her next adventure on the road to the World of Real.

I don't spend a lot of time fretting about her ability to navigate life. She is ridiculously responsible. She is kind and adroit, expressive and intuitive. She isn't afraid of hard work. She is also an amazing writer and story teller. (Her attention to detail is uncanny-she used to tell me all about her day. In. Real. Time.) She is willing to take risks and explore new things. She has a gift for communicating her point of view in a way that evokes contemplation rather than confrontation (causing me to reexamine some subjects that I thought I had already completely vetted.)  Spending time with OD is one of my favorite things to do!

Some other things I dig about OD: She purposely throws words I love, like penultimate and discombobulation, into every day conversations. She humors me when I say things like "there really should be an eye-rolling app. Seriously. Isn't that brilliant? an eye rolling app? Then you could roll your eyes, but no one could see. Or everyone could see. Either way-it's genius."  She doesn't roll her eyes at me when I hit repeat for the 14th time when I want to hear a song again or when I proclaim there should be a musical of That Thing You Do. (But if there was an app for that, she could virtually roll her eyes at me, and I wouldn't even know!) She thinks I'm hysterically funny (or at least has the good sense to act like she does).

I cry whenever she leaves home to return to NYC. I told her friend that once and she said her mom does the same thing, then she said, "It's terrible, I feel completely responsible." Which was a good reminder to tell OD that I miss her terribly, but that's the way it's supposed to be. I also said, "I can't miss you if you don't go away." Although it may have sounded more like, "I would rather miss you than throw objects at you-which wouldn't miss you- to motivate you to get the heck out of my house."

I feel so fortunate to be her Mama, but the truth is, if I met OD out in the World of Real, I would still feel all these things.

“The days are long, but the years are short.” ― Gretchen Rubin