Prodigal Son and Daughter Return

Well, the youngens who flew the coop have returned to the nest. Their wings are not clipped, but they have changed colors.

The boy got back from his first cross-country adventure and now believes that everyone who lives in Los Angeles owns plasma televisions. He had a fine time, got to meet some interesting people and learn what it feels like to be a minority. The friend he traveled with is bi-racial, and the family that was kind enough to put the boys up, was black. Those are about the only details of the journey I’ve been able to pry out of him.

Daughter and I traveled to the airport to retrieve lads and luggage from their late-night arrival. She was anxious to share with him, her how-I-managed-to-worry-our-mother-even-more-while-you-were-in-California new hairdo.

Yep, she’s done it again. Son’s previously mentioned friends-who-are-girls-but-not-girlfriends, who befriended his sister while he was away, got the bright idea to drive across the state for a hamburger. And take my baby. (Oh don’t give me that nonsense about how she’s a teenager...she’s my baby dammit and always will be).

She came bouncing in the house, all excited. “Mom! They invited me to go to St. Louis with them!”

Stay calm, stay calm, don’t attempt to throw her in a bag and protect her from the world for the rest of her life.

“Oh?” (oh my sweet jesus why oh why?)

“Yeah! We’re gonna drive down there for a White Castle burger!”

{{Flashback to my wild and crazy youth, when such foolishness was a way of life but I would no more have told my mother than stick a needle in my eye.}}

I am relieved she is open enough to share the plan with me. I am horrified, as a mother, by the plan. I am cognizant of the fact that a negative reaction will cause her to choose a needle in the eye over sharing any future adventures with me.

“Well, that should be fun!” (if you stay alive please sweet jesus keep her alive)

So off she went, and I was alone. It was freaky. Sure, I spend days alone here when Husband is at work and the boy is makin’ French fries, and she’s at school, but this was...different.

The boy was off in La La land, so I wasn’t drivin’ him to the golden arches. The girl wouldn’t be sittin’ at me feet in the evenings, giggling over an anime’ or video game website.

I felt very old. It was the quietest 4th of July I can remember. It sucked. (Oh how eloquent of me)

Her escapade went well, and when they returned, they dyed her hair black with red tips, just to have some sport with ol’ Ma. Oh, look at you. Did you have a good time? Just ignore my bleeding palms, sugar. No, I’m not digging my fingernails into my skin to control my temper. It’s stigmata darling, mommy got religion while you were gone. I’m channeling Francis de Sales - patron saint of writers. Yes dear, I am going to blog about this.

They’re all sleeping now. I peek in at their faces, so sweet in slumber, and smile. I know they won’t be here forever, but for now...I think I’ll get good and drunk and not think about it - LOL!

Hope all of you had a lovely holiday, and stayed alive. If you’re dead and perusing this from the afterlife, please let me know how big my readership is out there. Tell Francis - he’ll channel it to me.