I've been harking back to all the time that came before now. Ian is off to college next week. Actually, I should be driving back from Boone this time next week- having delivered my boy into his new world. 18 years and 7 months ago (tomorrow) I delivered him into our world and he quickly became the center of it. As it should be. I understand all the advice about not putting your child before your partner, but why the hell wouldn't you? I love Will and I hope we have as many years together as his grandparents did (75- ok, we might have started a little late to hit that goal). But I love Ian more. Luckily Will feels the same, so no feelings hurt here.
When he was only 12 hours old I sat holding him, amazed that he was mine and I was overwhelmed with the reality that now that he was on the outside I no longer was the only thing keeping him safe. Only I could look into that beautiful little face and burst into tears because one day he would go to kindergarten...high school....leave home for college. So I've been anticipating this for a long time (ok, dreading it). I've been thinking about my mom a lot too- but she is never far from my mind.
Ian is exactly what we hoped for in our baby, even before there was a baby: funny, curious, self confident, tolerant..... He marches to the beat of his own drummer and for the most part is unconcerned with the opinion of others. At times these traits have proven to be a headache to us and we look at each other and say "be careful what you wish for"! So as he is planning his exit strategy and boldly going into his future we are left behind to figure out how to be just two again. There is anticipation in that as well.
So, how to tie this in to the chickens (it is their blog, sorta). Well, there has been a lot of anticipation with regards to the girls. The Internet searches into breeds, coops, taking care of them. Will even went to a chicken keeping class at NCSU. We debated long and hard about where to put them and what size space they needed (you are welcome girls, I lobbied for bigger is better). We visited the farm we were interested in getting them from, emailed back and forth with questions before making the final decision. Once they were here of course the anticipation turned to the first egg. When the time drew near for the Comets to start laying every visit to the coop meant a check of the nesting boxes we'd "seeded" with golf balls to give them a hint. When a pullet is getting ready to lay her comb gets very red and Fanny's was, so the afternoon I went out and found her first egg I was so excited! From the first egg Fanny laid to the first egg Emma laid was about 2 months, so everyday was filled with anticipation about how many eggs, would the Americauna's eggs be green or blue.....when would Emma finally join in the fun?
I still love going out in the afternoon and collecting eggs, bringing the girls a treat and getting some chicken love. They have brought and continue to bring me a great deal of satisfaction. They don't mind the tears I've shed out there and to be sure there are more to come. Just like the baby smiles and little boy hugs, one day the number of eggs will begin to decrease. There will be periods when there are no eggs and from out of the blue one will be laid, all the more precious because soon there will be no more.
Ian is the best thing I have ever done (or will ever do). I anticipate many years of watching him become the man I think he's capable of being. I anticipate that one day he will not only love me but will like me and consider me a friend and be glad I'm his mommy. I anticipate that when I leave him next week he'll be so excited about school and being on his own. I anticipate that I'll probably cry all the way home and that Will will be crying when he gets home from work knowing that Ian won't be there. I anticipate stocking up on tissue!
I learned by example, from two strong women, a few different lessons. From my grandmother, to love fiercely and perhaps obsessively- but leave no doubt about how much love there is, forever and always. From my mom, that the pity party gets old and despite how much I might want to wallow in misery there is always something to laugh about (the more inappropriate, the better!) sooner rather than later.
Love you Ian!