Full memories, Emptying nest

Today was a beautiful New England day, and so I spent the day at the ocean with my sister-in-law, Melissa and her 2 children; my niece, Emeria, who is 9, and my nephew, Austin who is 8.

I rose bright and early for a Saturday morning...7:30am, showered, grabbed a beach towel and a bag of cherries for my lunch and headed out the door, while everyone in my household was still...well...I would say sleeping soundly...except there is nothing quiet about how my guys sleep...so I'll just say...while my family happily grunted and snored away still. There wasn't much to pack since it was just me. I threw my purple towel in the backseat and securely set my bag of cherries on the seat next to me.

Now as I've already explained I am attempting to stave off the empty nest that is inevitably closing in on me, so I was delighted to have my niece and nephew join us.

On my way to picking up my beach cohorts, I had a 20 minute drive down memory lane...not on purpose mind you...but just because my life is so different from what I'd been used to for so long. Once my boys became teens...they each...one by one...slipped on by, the days of wanting to go to the beach with their mother. I did the usual begging and pleading for them to go with me...but they all respectfully declined, in their own typical, non-committal ways...of a shoulder shrug, or, an "I dunna know..."and they'd quickly change the subject, which is their polite way of saying "absolutely not!" Well except for Cote who gives me an impish grin and looks me in the eye with his smiling eyes and says "absolutely not!" while nodding his head in a "yes" fashion...this still means..."N-O!" Sigh! So, it is not that I set out to travel down memory lane. It is just that, I miss the life I had with my boys so severely, that I can't help but notice the stark contrast of the quiet morning and the quiet hum of the silence in the car as I drive alone. I shut off the AC and roll down the windows so at least the traffic and the warm summer air blowing through, will break the silence. I remember all those years of screaming, fighting children in the back of the van and all I wanted then was a morning like this, quiet and peaceful. The grass is always greener I guess.

As I was driving I remembered those summer mornings, when there was no need to set an alarm clock because I knew the boys would be up bright and early. I thought about the chaos of those beach bound summer mornings when the boys were little...and the boys were my life...my whole life! And I in turn was their whole life too. Well...not just me...but their father too. We were their whole world!

I had learned the hard way not to tell the boys ahead of time when we had fun and exciting things planned for them...because they would get so excited about it the night before, that they wouldn't be able to fall asleep or they'd start fighting that night about who was bringing what toy or wearing which goggles. I had also learned the hard way...to shop and pack the coolers ahead of time. This way the coolers were usually all set, before I'd make the big "beach announcement."

The morning news that we were going to go to the beach that day would send electric currents up and down Josh's whole body. His whole face would break out into a grin and he would jump up and down clapping his hands or he would excitedly hit the top of his head and tug on his shirt. His voice too would suddenly amp up, to an usual high pitch and volume.
"Yay, really mumma? Really? We're going to the beach? Hear that guys?" he'd shout to his brothers, standing right next to him. "We're going to the beach! Thank you mumma, thank you...this is going to be such a fun day...I love you so much mumma!" But just as much as he exhibited such delight at the prospect of a beach day, he was also then stricken with the knowledge that he must quickly be the first to claim which towel and beach toys he wanted...this usually demanded a scolding from me that he not be greedy or selfish...a scolding I would hand out to all the boys repeatedly over the course of the morning.

Cote's reaction was much different than that of Josh's. Cote...as cool as a cucumber...at the exciting news...would slowly allow a slight smile to evolve across his face. His brow would furrow as if he was deep in thought...he'd swing his arms back and clap his hands in one swift movement and announce in a low 'jersey tone' of voice, "Yessss! I Love it! I betta get the bawls...Jawsh dohn't fawget the bawls..." Cote's idea of "getting" the balls, was to actually delegate the task to Josh and then oversee, that in fact, it got done or do it himself, if Josh wasn't willing to participate in being bossed around by his younger brother.

Then there was Chris' reaction to this, what should have been, good news...he'd walk around tiptoeing because his bathing suit felt funny...half crying and half shrieking that he couldn't wear it. We'd go through several suits until we found just the right one...the same with his shirt...and for years, his american flag, patterned bathing suit became 'the one and only, right bathing suit'...the summer that his cheeks could no longer squeeze into that suit...was indeed a sad summer, to say the least. His grandmother taking pity on him, made it into a pillow for him. That suit saved us from many frustrating summer mornings and afternoons! I didn't even bother with his sandals, I just let him carry those to the car. Plus we had to be sure to pack several sets of dry clothes and additional bathing suits for him just in case the dry clothes got wet or the bathing suit got too uncomfortable. Poor Chris...growing up with a severe sensory integration disorder...he just never felt quite right in his own skin. What he wore or touched...was always his biggest and constant concern. Plus to top it off...even though the idea of playing in the water delighted Chris, it also triggered his grave concern about his band-aids falling off. Chris worried often about his cuts or scrapes...even the ones that weren't visible to the naked eye. He was always updating us on their progress...we affectionately began calling this "the scab report" and so he had a very long and expensive, fascination with band-aids, that continues on, even today. We couldn't forget to pack the band-aids!

And of course Levi's reaction to this news was to run and claim his favorite pair of goggles and to start stuffing plastic grocery bags full of action figures...as if we were being evacuated and he'd never see them again. We'd sort through the collection he had decided he just couldn't leave behind...and let him pick 2...one for each hand. Then they'd all want action figures and so they'd all pick 2.

And so it would go...that Cote would organize and supervise the boys' attempt at loading the van...often times he'd get impatient with the way they were doing it and he'd tell them to go buckle in and he'd do it. He'd unload it, then reload it, the way he thought it should be done. Even to this day that boy can pack a suitcase or a car like nobody's business. (A little OCD perhaps?:)) The boys would argue over who was going to sit where...and who should be able to pick who sits where, who sat where last time and who gets the most car sick...and so on....

At last, with the van all loaded up with: the beach toys, the "bawls", the coolers, the beach chairs, the towels, the blankets, the goggles, the water shoes, the extra clothes, the band-aids and the action figures...we could finally set out on the road...headed towards the salty breeze of the ocean air...only to turn around a mile up the road to retrieve the sunblock we'd forgotten....which of course then led to someone needing to use the bathroom...and then another, and another, and of course another. Now finally...bladders relieved, seats chosen, boys buckled, sunblock packed...we headed towards the salty breeze of the ocean air...and once we got out onto Rt 101 past the Bedford intersection and I knew we were past the point of no return...I would announce to them, "Okay guys, here we go...we are now officially on the road to the beach!"
"Are you guys excited?!" I'd ask them.
The cheers and affirmation from the back of the van would silence their arguing for a moment...and then...yep...there it was...the bantering...the sound of music to a lonely mom headed towards an empty nest.

© Copyright 2010 Christine Maxwell