Wack came home this weekend. I cleaned up his room, went to the store with a list he'd texted me, sat down to watch the GU game and shortly after it ended, in he walked. I had something cooking in the crockpot but he was hungry 'now' and what was cooking wasn't ready so I offered up ordering him a pizza, any kind, any flavor - to tide him over. He pulled up a movie for us on the Apple TV that we bought for "Sons of Anarchy" several weeks back and while I watched intently - both he and The Dad crashed after they'd consumed some of the pizza.
He hung out on Sunday, had breakfast with us, then he and I shopped for a lot of shampoo, body wash, soap, toothpaste, laundry detergent, the really awesome smelling dryer sheets while The Dad was busy in the garage with a holyboard "order" he's long overdue on. (It's done now! Whew!) We chatted about the house, activities, classes next quarter, plans, grades - kind of everything under the sun. It was so nice to have the interaction... this kind of interaction. I have never minded just having him home and hearing his alarm go off, followed by silence for an hour, followed by the thunderous boom of the music in the bathroom while he showers, then followed by a grunt upstairs while he pours a bowl of cereal before heading back down to the man cave and putting in an xbox game - then sending upwards more loud sounds! My deal is - I just love having them home. Everyone knows this about me.
Sunday night he informs me his ride is planning on leaving at 2 on Monday. I went to the gym, came home, made him a ginormous bag of chex mix, packed up the candied pecans I made him the day before, threw in the pop tarts he asked me to buy and the bags of doritos and gathered everything together in three bags on the counter. He had a friend up in the morning to visit, then ate breakfast, started a movie and I got cleaned up. It was shortly after 1:00 when he paused his movie and bounded down the stairs. Shortly after that, he bounded back up the stairs and started packing things into his bags. I asked if he was just getting his things ready and he said "yeah." In my head I'm thinking... "OK. Good kid." And near as soon as I thought those very words the white SUV pulls up in the driveway. It was 1:27. CLEARLY Mikey was early. A tad too early for this mom that thought she had another 33 minutes to just chill with the baby boy. (Who, by the way HAS grown more in the past month. Easily 6'4" now... <sigh>)
So he gathered everything up and walked towards the front door... knowing I was going to likely well up with tears and as I went to hug him, tell him I love him, be safe... all that stuff he says: "Yeah. Thanks for having me."
Say WHAT?!?!?!? I promptly scolded him and said "Uhhh, having you? This is YOUR HOME."
And then he was off... again. Taking a piece of me with him. Again. Leaving The Dad to walk into my "the kids are gone... again..." mood swing... again.
So now he's back at his "home" again. I am left to count down the days until their next break, their next visit to Lloyd Street, the next time I hear: "Thanks for having me."
Which leaves me scheming. And The Dad doesn't like what I'm dreaming up, to help pass the time... <to be continued...>
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