Sons and Mothers

Ollie aged 10 years with his sisters

I got all teary-eyed at the breakfast bar this morning.  Ollie sat there munching through his pancake and strawberries, straight from the shower, and it was just as if he were 10 years old again about to get on his trottinette and scoot off to school.  Only its eight years on and there aren’t many of these breakfasts left, me drinking tea, him morosely munching in a companionable silence only the screech of Sophie-G’s hairdryer from upstairs frantically piercing the air as she works against the clock to get perfect locks.  Come September he’ll be off, fleeing the nest.

For this too shall pass.

He is ready.  When he gets off the school bus at the end of the day, loping down the street I think to myself he looks so tall and too old to be going to school now and, on occasion I will admit, I have shouted

“Six months and counting!” up the stairs in annoyance.

I just hope I don’t blub too much.  This week we heard the news that his lovely long standing girlfriend Lucy will be singing at the graduation ceremony at the end of May.  Run, by Snowpatrol. 

For this too shall pass.

Both the good and the bad although we want to hold onto the good and hurry up the bad.  I’m not alone.  I have been boring my girlfriends into a stupor about this for the last six months and they all have their own war story to tell.  In one farcical incident of blatant thunder stealing, which left us laughing hysterically, one girlfriend started blubbing about sending her boys off to boarding school ten years prior before I even got to the end of my story!

I find myself telling complete strangers, cashiers, fellow train passengers etc.  and the reaction is always the same.  If you are a mother you know how it is.

For this too, sadly, shall pass.