KALEIDOSCOPE

In 2001, my oldest son graduated from high school and choose a college in Missouri that was a 4 - 5 hour drive away from home.  Even though he had lived with his father for nearly two years, I had been the one who helped him with his scholarship audition and visits to the college.

My husband and I along with my ex-husband and his wife moved him into the dorm that August.  We looked like a caravan traveling along the highway: my son in his car, my ex in an SUV, and my hubby and I in an second SUV.  Missouri was hot and humid that August, and we were drenched in sweat by the time we were done transfering everything from the vehicles to the third floor.  At the end of the day, the college had a ceremony of transition and transformation for the students as they said good-bye to their parents and crossed the threshhold of the main campus building.

During his freshman year, however, he called home and came home more than I expected.  When he returned from school for vacations, my house was once again home.  The summer after his freshman year, he decided that he would rather live with me than his dad.  (He never really gave a clear explanation for that.)  Between his sophomore and junior year, however, he decided to stay in Missouri, go to summer school, and rent an apartment with his friends.   It was time for me to realize that he was growing up quicker than I wanted him to, but I supported his decision.  He spent the next two summers in Missouri as well….. until …..

The bar where he was working went out of business and his good friend and he decided, on the encouragement from a third friend, to move to Vegas and work on construction of steel framed buildings.  After several trips to my house, most of his important possessions were safely stored in my basement.  His car and his buddy’s car were packed as the three of them (My son’s new girlfriend was traveling with them) took off to theWest.  They made it as far as Kansas before they stopped.

In Kansas, they decided to stop at his buddy’s dad’s house and pitch in at the junk yard to make some extra cash.  All was going well until their Vegas connection called.  He had gotten homesick and was back in Illinois.  The job connection and the place to stay was all of a sudden gone, and they were in Kansas.  It was at that point that I got a call.  “Hi, Mom, I’ve decided to come back to Illinois.  Can my girlfriend and I come and live with you till we find jobs and an apartment?  It will only be two or three months.”

Two to three months turned into two and a half years.  Although I was glad my son felt comfortable enough to ask if he could live at “home” for a while, it was extremely difficult.  Trying to back off of parental rules for a 23 year old was difficult, as it was also difficult for him to live in the same space as his mother.  (We won’t even go into the girlfriend.)

This past week, however, he has moved in with a friend he has had since high school.  I somehow hope that it was as hard for him to move on his own as it was for me to see him go; however, I wish him all the best.

For years, my mother has been attending open houses for friends and relatives who achieve milestone birthdays.  When my mother turned 78, she was adamant about what she wanted and didn’t want in regard to her 80th birthday.

No one was to put her on display at an open house for her birthday.  No one!  As the only child, it was fairly easy to acquiesce to her wishes.  I did feel, however, that something had to be done.  Rather than an open house, I had thought about a big surprise party at one of the local parks in the shelter.  I began my planning in early April, her birthday falling in August.  I identified specific people who I thought my mother would like to see in attendance - including her God-daughter, Lisa, who came to town every August.

With the guest list begun, I needed to decide whether it should be the weekend before or the weekend after her birthday.  This is where the process of throwing a surprise party gets difficult.  My 79 year old mother travels extensively since her companion of 18 years died a year ago.  She had been his care-giver through two years of dimentia (a form of Alzheimer’s) and had never felt comfortable leaving him alone or having someone else come into the house to watch him.  By mid-May, she was organizing her plans for travel; Canada was on her list for August, but she couldn’t decide whether to leave before her birthday or after.  Before her birthday would put a surprise party early August, and I was going to be in Missouri with my husband visiting his sister.  After her birthday would not work for several people who I thought should be at her party.  I, however, had to wait for her decision before I could continue my plans.

Her final decision was to leave the day after her birthday, but she decided so late that pulling together a major surprise party where people would actually attend would not be possible.

So? Plan B.

I must say I think she liked Plan B better than  a big surprise party.  This plan had two steps to it.  First, call from our vacation to Missouri and make sure Lisa had gotten to town.  Finding out no one had planned any extended family get-together, I had Mom arrange a breakfast for the four of us (my mother, Lisa, Lisa’s sister, and me) at a favorite Swedish restaurant.  (We all love Swedish pancakes.)

Step two was a little more devious.  In fact, my youngest son (23) was shocked to learn just how sneaky his mother actually was.  (He was around to hear the phone conversations.)  I arranged to take over fellowship time after church the Sunday before her birthday.  I was so grateful that all involved kept the secret.

Of course, even this was not easy.  Saturday evening when my Mom called, she began listing the possible things she might do on Sunday, but thankfully she added that it would be after church.  (I don’t think bakeries look kindly on the return, or non-pickup, of a full sheet cake.)

My mother’s first surprise was my “late” appearance at church; I rarely, if ever, go.  She thought my appearance was the “best birthday present” I could have ever given her.  It wasn’t until the end of the service when I grabbed my camera that she realized something more was up.  The paster asked for the congregation to sing “Happy Birthday” to her, and then I asked everyone to join us in the basement for birthday cake.

I made her day.  She keeps saying that she can’t believe what I did for her.  Wait till her actually birthday when she gets her real present: the hot air balloon ride she has always wanted.  (She’s going to have to accept a certificate, though, because her travels seem to have her booked.)