The one where I get interviewed...

You guys are not going to believe this, but I'm going to be interviewed and featured on this site: Mommy Page. I know, you're all wondering if they actually read my blog before picking me. That was my initial thought too. Then I thought maybe I was being punked. Because, I hear you all saying, "But, Spot, you're more like the anti-Mommy." I know, right? But they must have read my blog because the interview questions actually pertain to a post or two. And those questions? Man, they're hard. I'm freaking out just a little. But don't tell anyone, it would ruin my image.

So I'm definitely going to do the interview and I will let you all know when it is up; hopefully, you'll find a minute or two to sneak over and check it out, leave me a little comment love, and generally promote a site that apparently doesn't want to be preachy or "cookie cutter"ish. Let's face it, if they did, they wouldn't touch my blog with a ten foot pole. I mean I've openly admitted to not knowing where my children were every minute of every single day; letting them endanger their health by climbing tall trees, handling snakes (okay, so I totally did not encourage that, quite the opposite), riding without pads or helmets; and snarking at them. But, hey, they survived and became mostly functioning members of society (provided you don't ask Lu where any European countries are located or think that plans for total world domination is an odd life plan for a guy).

I've also stated numerous times that I'm looking forward to my children vacating the premises. I get really funny looks for that one sometimes. And it makes me wonder if people think they want their kids to live with them forever. And if they do, what kind of accident was it that caused the head injury that knocked your screw loose? Because, let's face it, no matter how close you are to your offspring (and anyone reading this blog knows that I'm nearly super glued to mine), there comes a time when you want some space. And I'm not talking about locking yourself in the bathroom for ten minutes with your fingers in your ears, refusing to converse with anyone standing outside the door. (You know you've been there, don't try to deny it.) And after raising them up, I deserve some "me" time. Or better yet, some "me & mike" time. So while I love them dearly, and will cry copiously the day they move out, I will also do a secret (okay, now that I've put it in writing maybe not-so-secret) happy dance.

They need the chance to blossom. Lu needs her own house so that two adult women with different ways of doing things aren't trying to survive in the same kitchen. Sean needs to not have me cook for him, clean his room, balance his checkbook, and amuse him on a routine basis. They need to flaunt their independence, make some mistakes, and become fully adult. Do I wish they weren't both moving half a continent away? Definitely. But I also know that there's nothing much around this area for them. We've always raised our children to want to get out of dodge and find their own niche in the world. I'll miss them like crazy (especially my adorable grandson) but there are cell phones, skype, and air travel. I'll make use of them all. Frequently.

And Mike & I? Well, I need time to devote to work and not feel guilty about neglecting the family. We both need a little less stress and a little more downtime. And we need more couple time.

And guess what? Lu & Sean took baby Dylan to visit his dad in Texas. So the next six days are a practice run at being empty- nesters. I'm only 8 hours in, Lu's called once already, but I'm kind of liking this silence thing. Just me and six sleeping cats. I'll let you know how it goes...



♥Spot

The one where he now belongs to the USMC

I don't even know what to call this post. That's how my whole week has rolled. Tuesday I couldn't even tell you what day of the week it was. First I thought it was Monday and then I thought it was Thursday. WTF, me? And then Tuesday night- the bomb dropped. I was making supper and Sean and Mike had just walked in.

Sean- I heard from the recruiter today. He called and said he had good news.

Me- Oh yeah? What?

Sean- I have to go to MEPS tomorrow, I'm swearing in on Thursday.

Me- *sputtering* But...what...all your waivers?*He had to get a waiver for his wrist tattoo because it wasn't an inch from his wrist. He had to get a waiver for his home school diploma. It's been nothing but a pain from the beginning.*

Sean- All went through. I'm in.

Me-*mouth hanging open, still stuttering* but...but...

Sean- No buts! All I need now is for my job assignment and ship out date to come down.

And then he went off to take a shower.

Lu- Why do you sound so surprised? You knew this was coming.

Me- Well, I mean, they kept jerking him around, and the Air Force tried to steal him, and he had a plan B and it was a good plan. And now he's leaving!

Lu- Again, you knew this was coming.

Me- You don't get it yet, but you will in eighteen years. *Pointing at baby Dylan* He's my baby. And now he's leaving home. And you should know that after you leave things are never the same. And he's joining the service, the Marines no less, and he could get sent to Afghanistan and die.

Let me first say that I have nothing against the Marines. Except that they are the first in. They lose more military personnel every year. Sean knows this. Sean doesn't care. And despite an IQ and test scores that qualify him for Intelligence jobs, Special Ops, or millions of other things, Sean wants to be Infantry. First in. He's wanted this since he was six. Seriously, six. And while I admire the determination and his fire, as a Mom, I'd like him to have a nice behind the scenes job. Like, stateside. But I know that isn't his dream and I have to support his dream, regardless of what my dreams for him might have been.

Also, I was raised in an Air Force family, so it's hard to switch loyalty. Which only military people will understand.

I'm not sure anyone in the family gets it. Sean thinks I'm not proud of him. And that is far from the truth. Sean is amazing. I couldn't be more proud of him. And I am proud that he wants to serve his country. And I'm proud that he's confident and independent and nothing I say would talk him out of this. I'm glad he's going for his dreams. But I can be proud and glad and happy for him and still be sad for me.

Don't get me wrong-- I'm totally looking forward to all of my chicks leaving the nest. I know that the house will be cleaner, quieter and easier to take care of. Mike and I will have some quality time together and I won't have so many distractions from writing. I'm not one of those people who are scared to death of what they'll do when they have an empty nest. Not anymore. I have a career and outside interests. I have friends and hobbies. Mike and I have plenty to talk about besides the kids. Our trip to New Orleans proved that we can still be "just Mike & Stacey" and enjoy it.

But I will miss my chicks like nobody's business. I will miss the loud chaotic craziness of five adults and a baby living in the same house. I will miss talking out a story line with the kids or insane dinner conversations. I will miss having partners in crime. I will miss sarcastic banter (Mike's not so big on the sarcasm). Who will explain quantum physics to me, for gosh sakes?

I'm excited for the kids to start their lives. I know, living at home, they both feel like they are kind of in limbo and waiting for "their real lives to begin". And I understand that. And I'm excited for "the rest of my life" to begin. I'm excited for the next stage in Mike & I's relationship to begin. I'm excited to lay on the couch, after a long day working, and not have to keep turning the TV up, in order to hear it.

But I'm sad too. I'll miss those chicks. They are my kids, my chicks, my spawn. But they are also some of my best friends. So sending them off is bittersweet. It's the culmination of my life's best work. Nothing I achieve from here on out, can ever compare to raising confident, intelligent, responsible adults. I devoted the last 21 years of my life to it and seeing it come to fruition is supremely gratifying. And terrifying. But mostly, gratifying.

So I'm going to have a glass of wine at dinner tonight. And I'm going to toast- Sean on the beginning of his journey, and to me- in the next phase of mine.

♥Spot