March 3, 2007
Just Damn
It's a hell of a thing, moving your own god-borned children out of your house. Ensconcing them in new digs, telling them 'This is all for the best'.
And they dally for weeks, days, supposing that day won't happen, too. And when it does they have to move anyway, and so they finally scallop up their most precious things, and put on the bravado for you.
'Done!' they cry. But they aren't. Gots their toothbrushes, and 30-odd pound of make-up, bodywash, lotions, and other requisites. The clothes were already moved. But they leave behind a ton of shit. That means nothing to them, apparently, but plenty to you. Gimcracks and gewgaws? Got 'em aplenty. They didn't want to keep them, though.
So afterwards you go through their rooms, and they are explosions of trash. The garbage they leave behind is what you thought would have held their hearts. Maybe once, but it's garbage now. The stickman with the tiny potbelly labelled Dad? Neh. That scribble of you from pre-K she taped to her closet door forever? Don't need that, either. The 156 bottles of shampoo, conditioners, straighteners, curlers, frizzers, de-frizzers, coalgulators, decoagulators, stiffeners, destiffeners, and relaxers for the hair? Mine, now. Should I need them.
The things they leave behind speak far more to me than what they take.
And so you clean that room out, and the next. And at some point you sit in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the detritus of your childrens' lives, amongst the shit you liked but they left behind, often things you gave them, with tears streaming down your cheeks, and wonder. Just a little bit.
What the hell just happened?
Sucks to be me, apparently.
Damn. That's why I'm constantly telling my daughter to quit growing up.
Posted by: Patton at March 3, 2007 3:08 AMYes it sucks.
You teach them how to be indedependant and shit they do just that.
Bastard. Shut up, my daughter is...
almost...
a teenager...
Shut up. Dammit.
Dammit.
Posted by: og at March 3, 2007 7:16 AM... bring the coagulators and decoagulators next weekend... we might need them...
Posted by: Eric at March 3, 2007 7:46 AMNaw, they do all that crap, then in a year, they're back. I swear, it's like the clap.
I'm thinking of using hand grenades to get my daughter out of the house, but her evil step mother won't let me evict her. Evil step mother never had a daughter, and the two of them gang up on me. When daughter finally graduates from college, I'm going to separate her bedroom from the house with a chainsaw and push it down the hill. We'll call it a starter home for her.
Posted by: PawPaw at March 3, 2007 8:11 AMsorry.sorry.sorry.
Posted by: Jean at March 3, 2007 8:47 AMIf you keep feeding 'em, that's what'll happen. They'll grow up and move out and break your heart and make you proud and sad enough to sit up at 1:46 a.m. and confess your confoundedness.
Posted by: Joan of Argghh! at March 3, 2007 9:01 AMawww, man. My heart started breaking when my oldest turned 18, he's leaving this summer, and it's already hard to think about.
Posted by: holder at March 3, 2007 9:14 AMMy daughter just got her first info packets from some colleges yesterday. She was so excited to read them. Me? I cried like a baby. She's turning 16 this summer, and yet she's already looking forward to the day she's out on her own.
Who the hell told our kids they're allowed to grow up, dammit!??
Posted by: Venomous Kate at March 3, 2007 9:44 AMThat time cometh very soon for me as well; the eldest will be eighteen in a few months. I can't bear the thought of the day when they're all packed up and gone, it's a good thing I've still got one who is nine.
Posted by: Lisa W. at March 3, 2007 9:56 AMWell, I suppose I'll just add to the growing vein of this comments thread: When I moved out, my parents, seemingly post-haste, turned my beloved bedroom--a place where many happy memories happened--into a room where boxes and other such useless crap (like dusty seashells and dried-up magic markers) are stored.
But the thing is, V-Man, there's no written-in-blood rule saying one cannot always go home again. Dry those eyes, my man...you gonna be choking rattlesnakes soon, and damn I wish I could be there for that.
Posted by: Erica at March 3, 2007 11:06 AMbuck up, buttercup. embrace the suck. white lining, white lining, white lining, stop.
by the way, i knighted you, and even posted some snake swallowers just to cheer you up.
smoochies, vlove, see you soon.
Posted by: shoe at March 3, 2007 12:17 PMEmbrace the Suck, indeed.
Posted by: Velociman at March 3, 2007 12:21 PMDamn, man. It ain't personal. It's being a kid. Give them some trips around the sun, and they'll be wishing they had that stickman and the scribble that is you.
It sucks to be them, too. But if they know that you're always there for them, it takes a little of the suck out.
Posted by: That 1 Guy at March 3, 2007 12:26 PMYep. Been there, done that. Hated it.
Wait til her new husband takes even your name from her, and gives her his.
Posted by: Bane at March 3, 2007 3:03 PMFor us, the hardest part was not moving them out...it was visiting each of them in her new digs and realizing, "this is her new home."
Ai yi yi.
Posted by: Elisson at March 3, 2007 4:54 PMSorry to hear about that, my man. I hope they're not too far away, at least.
Posted by: Dash at March 4, 2007 1:21 PMEmbracing THAT particular Suck is hard. Very hard. But on the other hand, the control of the remote and the sound system are yours alone, now, and if one wishes to lunch on, say, jelly beans, well, at least there's no one to set a bad example for!!
Posted by: Marianne at March 4, 2007 7:25 PMYou may want to look at this another way. Perhaps the girls left all that stuff behind precisely because it's the stuff that would make them feel at home...a way of staying connected.
Posted by: SWMBO at March 4, 2007 8:23 PMYou may want to look at this another way. Perhaps the girls left all that stuff behind precisely because it's the stuff that would make them feel at home...a way of staying connected.
Posted by: SWMBO at March 4, 2007 8:23 PMYou may want to look at this another way. Perhaps the girls left all that stuff behind precisely because it's the stuff that would make them feel at home...a way of staying connected.
Posted by: SWMBO at March 4, 2007 8:24 PMJust box it up. They come back for a lot of the stuff they leave or ask you to send it on to them. Yeah, I still have some stuff for my daughter but I know most of what we have she is going to want when she actually has room for it and stops moving every few months.
The boy, has already told me, he is being minimalist when he goes to college, but he wants us to hang on to his legos, pottery wheel, papermaking supplies, artwork and other stuff. He will claim it back when he has room for it.
Posted by: Wendy at March 4, 2007 9:04 PMI'm with SWMBO.
I hope you kept some of it. Put it in a file to remember them when they were little.
Posted by: Bou at March 4, 2007 11:05 PMStill remember how it felt...empty, sad heartbroken. It does ease, but even after 12 years, I still miss the mess in her room and the smell of her bathroom after she showered.
Posted by: sailynn at March 5, 2007 1:19 PMThey leave one by one and return two by two.
Posted by: Daddy-O at March 5, 2007 1:29 PMOkay, there's something wrong with me... I opened champagne...
I was in Chicago over the last weekend - darling daughter has just bought a new cute condo downtown - I was envious... I never did that (of course it didn't help that I had a 7 year old and a 3 year old when I was her age...)
As for my son - when he left for basic training - I found enough beer cans stashed in his room to half fill a 45 gallon recycle bin. I was just hoping the Army didn't send him back because damn I was pissed off. Heh.
Save those stick figures and drawings. They will want those one day...they left them for a reason that they don't know yet. Trust me on this.
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Posted by: ala at March 6, 2007 6:36 AMThey all come back. Mine with 4 daughters and a low life husband. Gee, I retired to Florida and have more in my house than I ever have.
Posted by: Don Jr. at March 6, 2007 12:01 PMDamn, Bro.
Posted by: Jim - PRS at March 6, 2007 9:11 PMYep. Know how you feel. Then what happens is just as soon as you get all that trash cleaned up and quit crying...they come back home and wonder ...Uh, what did you do with my STUFF? You see, in their twisted little minds we are supposed to make a shrine out of their bedrooms for them when they go. Oh,..you just inspired me again. THANKS!
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