Flying Out of the Nest

This is the security screening area of Denver International Airport. Noah is in the yellow plaid shirt. Can you see him?

Yesterday I sent Noah on his first solo flight. He had to negotiate DIA (a huge airport with trains), find his own seat on Southwest, find his way out of SLC airport and locate his ride. He called me several times (on his new cell phone) with questions: When he takes his shoes off do they need their own bucket? Should he put his cell phone in the bucket, in his pocket, or hand it to the security guard? Which train should he take?

I was torn between feeling very proud of him, and terrified. I had to physically fight the urge to go through security myself and hold his hand until he was buckled into his airplane seat. I stayed in the airport until he called to tell me he was standing in boarding row A and everything was just fine. He sounded happy and excited.

My kids, one by one, are leaving the nest. I never thought it would actually happen to me.

Its just me and Ike for the rest of the week rattling around in this big old empty house. It throws my balance off just enough to keep me in a state of slight loss. I miss my big kids. I miss their mess and noise and even the frustration and aggravation I felt when they were home.

When my kids were needy little ones who couldn't go 3 minutes without bothering me for food, help, whining, making a mess, pooping, peeing, falling, crying, it seemed like my kids needed me too much.

I fantasized about how great it would be when they could take care of themselves and I could sit and read a great book. I was right to fantasize about that. My life is so much easier than it was when the kids were young. But I didn't realize how much fun I was actually having back then. I was too close to it to see how wonderful it was. Even though it was a painfully long time with diapers, car seats, whining, pacifiers, babysitters, strained peas, runny noses, late night vomiting, and whining (did I mention the whining?), it went entirely too fast.

I have officially turned into the obtrusive older woman who tells harried young mothers how lucky they are and how they should enjoy this (awfully stressful, over whelming, freaking out) time. I actually did this to a poor young mom in Target a few months ago! Even as the words were coming out of my mouth (I couldn't stop myself - it was embarrassing) I could see the tolerant look on her sleep deprived face, "Oh this poor lady, she has forgotten how horrible this phase of life is" or "This lady obviously never had kids."

I haven't heard from Noah since he got on the plane yesterday. I think that means that everything is fine.

He will call me if he needs me.