Motherhood is not for wimps Part 3

Phew its been a pretty intense week and a half.

The baby of the family (actually he is 24 so not a baby technically) got himself a job and then spent the next few days in unholy eagerness to shake the dust of home off his feet.  I must say that I spent the last ten days or so vacillating between the maternal urge to smother him in hugs and kisses and the entirely unreasonable desire to tie him hand and foot, stuff him in a cupboard and lock him in.  I did neither.

I sulked and bawled when no one was looking.

I prayed he would not get an apartment to shift into (Big fail.  He did.)

I hoped he’d lose his nerve and settle to spending some more time in the maternal home.  I even tried to plea bargain with any supernatural deity who may have been looking my way “Just two weeks, please.  Let him spend a few more days with me.  Okay four days?”

Well he’s gone.

He’s just shifted to Delhi.  It is just an hour away.  I can meet him at will.

We talk …

Actually we talk more now that he’s gone than we did when he stayed in my home.

May be I am just over reacting and being a Drama Mama.

But its not the same.

I am now the mother of grown up sons, adults.  A very joyous and important stage in my life is over.

I’m trying to come to terms with it.

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