It's no secret that I am a total wimp mom. I don't even try to hide it. I have a terrible time as, one by one, my children grow up and leave for college, missions, and marriage. I grieve each time. Over and over. It never gets easier. Here's the thing. I like my children, and I prefer it when they're here. Life is better in every way. When I'm feeling particularly melancholy, I wonder if the best three years of my life have already passed, the three years after Seth was born and before Luke left for college. It was the only time I had all five kids living at home at the same time, and it was heavenly.
Each day, one section at a time, Eli and I together work on his application to BYU-Idaho. The priority deadline is December 1, and we will easily have all the sections submitted by that date. I'm trying hard to embrace this process; really I am. Because it will not happen again until it's Seth's turn. And yet, in the war of bittersweet experiences, the bitter is winning mightily. What am I going to do without Eli?
Moreover, what am I going to do when sometime in the distant future, we are faced with that ominous empty nest? Turns out, I may never have to find out.
Seth (after getting the mail and realizing there was nothing for him): Ugh, no mail for me. Mail for you. Mail for Dad. Mail for Eli. Mail for Luke, AND HE DOESN'T EVEN LIVE HERE! Nobody ever sends me letters.
Me: Seriously Seth, most of the letters I get in snail mail are just bills, and trust me, those are not terribly thrilling. They mean I have to send people money.
Seth: That's why I'm never going to be a parent.
Me: Well, Seth, you will still have bills even if you are not a parent. You will have to pay for your house and your food. And your utilities.
Seth: Not if I just stay with you forever I won't.
Failure to launch?? Perhaps!
And it's no secret that I have serious age issues. I am terrified of growing older, and since I really feel about 30, I just lie my way through life. I lie about birth dates and graduation dates. I lie about my kids' ages. I even lie about my mother's age occasionally. In my defense, age is the only thing I lie about. The rest of my life is pretty transparent. The truth is I'm boring enough that there's really not much to hide. But if you ask me about my age or anything remotely related to it, you should probably expect to be deceived.
I have been lying to Seth about my age his entire life. As his math skills have developed, this has become incresingly problematic. "Mom, you can't be 35 because Luke is 25. That would mean you had a baby when you were 10." Lately, he's been obsessed with finding out my real age, which will never happen of course, but that doesn't stop him from trying. He knows my file cabinet has a section that contains all our birth certificates, but the cabinet is stored way up high in my closet.
Seth: Mom, could you take down the file cabinet, so I can see my birth certificate. I want to prove that I really was born on June 14th.
Me: No, Seth. It's covered up with wrapped Christmas presents. I'm not going to get it down. You'll have to take my word for it. You were born June 14, 2000.
Seth: But if I could find your birth certificate up there, I would finally have proof of exactly how old you are.
Me: Not a chance, Seth.
Seth: Well, Mom, just so you know. When you pass away, I'm going to go right up and get that file cabinet, so I will know once and for all how old you were. You can't lie forever.
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