Matthew, my first born, will be graduating from high school in a few days and his plan has been, for quite a long time, to join the Air Force and in July he will leave for basic training in San Antonio, Texas. He spent a couple of years in the ROTC so he has basic, low-level, military knowledge.
I am struggling with trying to identify how I feel about being the mother of a soldier. A military mom. Matthew is joining the military because he wants to fly planes and I support him 100% in his decision. Yes, we're all aware there is a war going on in other parts of our world and I know there is a possibility that Matthew could be sent there. As if the obvious wasn't obvious enough, the parental permission slip (Matthew doesn't turn 18 until September) I signed spelled it all out for me.
I do firmly believe that the military will be good for him. He's a very smart kid (tests at a genius level) and has decent analytical skills.
I'm not at the "empty nest" syndrome yet but how do I let him go??? He was my first son, my parent's first grandson. Oddly enough it was MY mother who gave my paternal grandparents their first grandson.
For the first four years of Matthew's life it was just him and me. I was the proverbial single mother living paycheck to paycheck. In order to provide Matthew with basic necessities (baby food, diapers, etc.) I literally lived on peanut butter and jelly. I recently found photograph's from Matthew's first birthday party and I was so incredibly skinny. But not in a good way.
Mothering Matthew was by trial and error. I had most of the right instincts and I made up a lot as we went along -- and we survived. Sitting here thinking back to those days...a lifetime ago....now he's getting ready to leaving home. When you have kids you KNOW there will come a day when they will venture out into the big, bad world and try to carve their own niche. Then BOOM! The moment is here and I can't find the words to describe the pride and love and respect I have for this man. Man. Oh. My. God. I am the mother of a M.A.N.
Back to the regularly scheduled pre-mid-life-crisis.
I am struggling with trying to identify how I feel about being the mother of a soldier. A military mom. Matthew is joining the military because he wants to fly planes and I support him 100% in his decision. Yes, we're all aware there is a war going on in other parts of our world and I know there is a possibility that Matthew could be sent there. As if the obvious wasn't obvious enough, the parental permission slip (Matthew doesn't turn 18 until September) I signed spelled it all out for me.
I do firmly believe that the military will be good for him. He's a very smart kid (tests at a genius level) and has decent analytical skills.
I'm not at the "empty nest" syndrome yet but how do I let him go??? He was my first son, my parent's first grandson. Oddly enough it was MY mother who gave my paternal grandparents their first grandson.
For the first four years of Matthew's life it was just him and me. I was the proverbial single mother living paycheck to paycheck. In order to provide Matthew with basic necessities (baby food, diapers, etc.) I literally lived on peanut butter and jelly. I recently found photograph's from Matthew's first birthday party and I was so incredibly skinny. But not in a good way.
Mothering Matthew was by trial and error. I had most of the right instincts and I made up a lot as we went along -- and we survived. Sitting here thinking back to those days...a lifetime ago....now he's getting ready to leaving home. When you have kids you KNOW there will come a day when they will venture out into the big, bad world and try to carve their own niche. Then BOOM! The moment is here and I can't find the words to describe the pride and love and respect I have for this man. Man. Oh. My. God. I am the mother of a M.A.N.
Back to the regularly scheduled pre-mid-life-crisis.
No comments:
Post a Comment