I woke up twice this morning. Once, when Mark got up before dawn for a golf game. I was having a dream about our basement flooding. I eventually fell back asleep, only to wake at nine, which is late for me. I made myself a coffee and mindlessly consumed half of it before I realized the milk had gone sour. I ate half a stale donut to get the taste of out my mouth and put in a load of laundry. That’s pretty much all I’ve been able to accomplish today.
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We dropped the eldest daughter off at Queen’s yesterday. We scored a reasonable check-in window that started at 12:30, so we timed our arrival accordingly. Although we were prepared for the organized chaos that naturally comes with 4000 students moving into residence on the same day, we didn’t plan upon the utter gridlock we encountered as soon as we got into the city of Kingston. It was wall-to-wall cars for miles. Because of this, our two hour trip to Kingston turned into five. It was so bad that some students got out of the car and walked to campus. Other passengers got out and bought snacks at the corner store before climbing back into their cars to continue the journey. There definitely could have been some police directing traffic at the busiest intersections! On the bright side, the extra two hours stuck in traffic meant that we essentially waited out a rainstorm.
Roads were temporarily changed to one ways in some areas, and we were directed accordingly. We had to pull up to the residence, unload our stuff on to the sidewalk, and park the vehicle elsewhere, away from these impromptu loading/unloading area. Mark parked our rental on the other end of the campus and by the time he was back everything had been brought upstairs. Student movers – and a borrowed dolly – were a huge help and really expedited the process. (Thank you student movers!)
The three of us helped the eldest unpack, hang up her clothes, set up her laptop, and make her bed. We met the girl with whom she shares a bathroom, and after many last-minute hugs were on our way minus one child.
Residence-related lessons learned: the beds at Leggett Hall are long doubles and can’t accommodate bed risers because of the headboard configuration and a middle post. Also, they’re low, so much so that the typical under-the-bed style storage is a no-go. Also, the toilet paper issued by the school is the single ply institutional variety. I was also happy that we decided to move her belongings in reusable plastic bins (clear, with lids) instead of cardboard boxes. It was a good decision because they were easy to lift and store, and withstood some scattered rain.
From there we went to Woodenheads for dinner. We were starving and the restaurant was very busy.
Thankfully I had made a reservation. After eating an entire pizza I was persuaded to go for gelato at Mio’s next door. (OK, so I didn’t need much convincing.) Then it was time to go home.
As you can imagine, I was physically and emotionally exhausted by the time we arrived. I continue to feel like a wrung out old sponge.
Thinking back, I’m shocked that I somehow managed to keep my sh!t together and not turn into a blubbering mess during moving day. I suppose I was too busy to think about it. I will say this: it has not been a completely dry-eyed experience. I’ve burst into tears in a few different places over these past few days.
(1) In line at my favourite donut shop. I was picking up a dozen doughnuts and there was a young family in line behind me. The two little girls were very young. One was barely walking and was trying to toddle away on her short little legs and big padded diaper butt. The other had long blonde hair and was peering out from underneath a baseball cap while weaving in and out of the line. The parents were patient, the girls were lovely. I was going to tell them so, but I bit my lip. I knew that as soon as I opened my mouth, the tears would start and possibly never stop.
(2) At home, the night before. I think the emotional roller coaster was taking its toll. We’re so proud of our eldest and her accomplishments. I’m happy, no, THRILLED that she has the opportunity to move out and have some great new experiences, ones that will shape her as a person and that she’ll always remember. Selfishly, I am terribly sad at the same time I am terribly happy. I can’t describe how much I will miss her friendly face and her sparkling chatter. Also, she’s an expert hugger, the kind of person who greets loved ones with open arms and a smile. I already feel like a droopy plant, deprived of water and sun. What will I do without her?
An awful confession: I’ve found myself wondering if I loved her enough. Did enough. Gave enough. Taught her enough. Done MORE things together. Made muffins! We never did buy her those dress shoes she needed. We never figured out how to play Munchkin. Or poker. (I even bought gambling candy!) Why didn’t I made more time for her? Did I really do my very best? I’m not sure if I did. Was I the best parent I could have been? What about those times she wanted a hug and I really just wanted to read my book? What about those times I didn’t want to build a sand castle? Should we have lingered longer, in those moments that mean the most: all those starry nights on the beach, those sunny days lazing in the pool, those picnics in the park.
Who’ll do my puzzle with me when the nights start to get longer? She’s way better than puzzling than I am.
(3) We came home with one less person in the car. After we unpacked and returned the rental I poked my head in her bedroom, newly emptied of many of her things and looking rather dusty and sad. There was a flattened penny, face down on her dresser. We often collected these on our travels. Maybe you’ve seen them. You put a penny in a machine, (along with your loonie for payment), pick your iconic touristy image, and crank a handle that controls the mechanism which flattens the penny and makes the impression of your choice. This one was an image of a chipmunk, a souvenir from Bon Echo Provincial Park. I’d totally forgotten about it and of course, I cried.
(4) I promised myself I wouldn’t be that mom, texting my kid a million times with a million questions… even though I was dying to know how it was going. Later that evening she sent a (voluntary!) text giving me the lowdown on a few key issues (my issues, of course) including news of new friends and a healthy dinner. I cried. (Question: so how many texts per day is too many??)
(5) Today I had to drop off some library books and pick up milk. I wasn’t sure what stores were open on Labour Day so I swung by Loblaws, hoping I’d be lucky and buy ingredients to make a proper dinner, which is something I haven’t had the heart to do this past while. During this short time in the car my sadness manifested in rage. Bad drivers, beware of this mama. One dude blew a stop sign right in front of me at Carlingwood Mall, just before he pulled over and parked. I slowed my car next to his as he was getting out of the car, my finger resting on the power window button. I was *this close* to screaming at him, but I refrained. (This is how road rage happens, people.)
Loblaws was closed, so I crossed the street to the Shopper’s Drug Mart parking lot where I pulled into a spot and cried.
(6) I’ve cried writing this post, thinking back on how quickly those 18 years have gone. It’s strange how it seems so long ago, and also, just yesterday. I remember the trip to the hospital, the first breath of life, the first day at home, first steps, first birthday, first words, first day at school. It breaks my heart thinking back to all those firsts. Did I appreciate them as much as I should have at the time? And what about all those days in between? I knew they were limited, but I didn’t pay close enough attention as they passed me by.
The rational side of me is aware that Kingston isn’t far, and that she’ll be back for Thanksgiving and Christmas and Spring Break and all next summer, but I can’t help myself. I also know that I can wait until the holidays to pull out that 1000 piece puzzle, and that we can still learn how to play poker, and we can still check out the things we’ve always talked about but never made the time to experience for ourselves. We can make muffins! I also know that when she comes back I will hug her tighter and for as long as she wants, and when we’re holding hands under the stars I will take a deep breath and fill this hole in my heart with the memory of a moment in time with one of the people I love most in the world. In the meantime, I’ll just have to soldier on and pretend everything is ok.
