And then there were two.

I have collected so much stuff in the 16 years I have been living here that when I said last week that I have made about a hundred trips to the dump, although I was exaggerating, it can’t be far off.

The guys there say hello to me now when I drive in. one of them even asked how the move was going today.

As I said to him, it’s OK. The rooms have all been sorted out – unwanted furniture has been collected or is in the process of being auctioned. (That makes me sound very grand doesn’t it- auctioned. Truthfully there are two bits which might be depending on the auctioneer’s appraisal).

The removal van booking has turned out to be trickier than first anticipated. Story of your life Mum, eldest said. Yes love. And thanks btw. He laughed.

And then there is butterfly woman (another story).

Otherwise, the week has been dominated by the one thing I cannot do any kind of literary justice to – and I have tried umpteen times these past few days.

Middlest has left home.

How can I describe this- you could call it a life event- but it is more than that. Watching her grow, helping her develop, laughing with her, playing together, singing dancing- lots of all of it. Crying and very little arguing.

The week went by as most weeks have done, and I didn’t plan anything as I kept reminding myself, she is just moving across town E she is not moving to the moon. You will still see her most days. Which is true but it didn’t stop the very real sense of loss I was experiencing mounting .The tears arriving at mostly private moments.  Apart from when I stood at the till in Tesco’s express and wept , bystanders perhaps wondering why the lady with the milk and fruit was crying, at the request for £4.35 for her four items. I scuttled out , items piled up in my arms unable to wipe my face, just wanting to get to the house that is slowly emptying itself of objects and people.

The next two days we spent together as we usually would except, we really ramped up the kitchen dancing – very good, including the Stone Roses, Alpha beat,  Taylor Swift and OMD. Moderated by smallest, I won the final dance off. We sang louder than ever to whatever came on or didn’t come on but came into our heads and drank an extraordinary amount of Yorkshire tea while telling stories about our days.

Oh and we watched Ghosts – of course.

We also cried to each other and said our respective goodbyes – firstly when we stood in the kitchen making tea and chatting about Brian Wilson. We had listened to Lauren Laverne in conversation on BBC Radio 6 music, with another presenter, which was followed by six of the best Brian Wilson songs. One of which was god only knows.

And we busied ourselves, I was sorting something in the fridge and she was squeezing the life out of the tea bags , our backs to each other and I thought god I’m going to cry and as I did I turned to see her already crying, and we just cuddled.

I said thank you then, for allowing me to be her mum and she said “good Mumming”.

Because that’s how I see it- your children either allow you to parent them or they can if they choose turn the other way.

Then, yesterday I said cheerio to her in her new home. We hugged and she said Thank-you, thank you , thank you and I said it had been a pleasure. Because it has been.

And tonight I stood in her room and thought bloody hell.

21 years.

And then there were two

“Life moves pretty fast, if you don’t stop and look around once in a while ……. you could miss it.”

Matthew Broderick; Ferris Buellers Day Off.

Eldest has left home…………. they actually left before Christmas, but it’s taken me a while to face it squarely, an age to clean his old room and even longer to write about him leaving. I have wondered why it has taken nearly five months to acknowledge this. Why, when it’s such a significant moment in both our lives? Some might say denial, some that I am a slow processor – some might even say perhaps it’s not that bigger deal for me. On consideration though I feel it’s because I have struggled to come to terms with the fact that his childhood is over. His leaving home has created a gap. One that no matter how much I try to fill with work or hobbies or through busying myself with middlest and smallest, is still there, gaping, loud and definite. There is also a part of me which is struggling to manage the reality that life is passing by. When children are young, they are with you constantly and to an extent time stands still. Having smallest certainly stalled that sense of aging but now, despite travelling alongside smallest through another childhood – I cannot ignore it. Eldest leaving has reminded me that I am in middle age, and he has reached adulthood. Childhood passes incredibly quickly. With that stark realisation comes a plethora of memories of childhood- the happy times and the struggles that I experienced in becoming a mother; inexperienced, immature and scared. Days spent grappling around for internal resources which I didn’t have but days which I nonetheless filled. Thinking about how and what with, it’s tricky to put it all together. I’ve forgotten a lot. So intent was I on filling their days, that it seems I didn’t stop to see half of them; so, when they come to me with a ‘do you remember narrative’, I’m ashamed to say, no I don’t. Listening to the radio one evening, I caught the tail end of a discussion where the narrator speaks about the slow movement, a group which focuses upon the work of Carl Honoré, who advocated a slowing down of what has become an amazingly fast paced world. Honoré advocates the consideration of slow parenting, a method of child rearing in which the parent allows the child more agency in their days at a pace they are comfortable with. It is juxtaposed with helicopter parenting in which parents are hypervigilant and look to fill up the days and the lives of their children, with a constant stream of activities and through the consumption of material goods. As I write this it occurs to me that how overwhelmed you might feel depends upon many factors, but I suspect of many parents a child leaving home allows them to glimpse the future. One where you will be left with what you began with. Yourself. For now, though that’s a long way off. I am blessed to have them all; still by my side are two others, the smallest of which I watched this morning as he buzzed from room to room, in and out of stories and in between various games. As he stilled, I sat next to him, and I said, “Do you know what, if I had to choose one thing only that I wanted to teach you, it would be to remember just to slow down. I have spent my entire life rushing around and I can’t help feeling that I have missed an awful lot”. So that’s my goal. To stop and take notice. Worry less about what I think I should do and focus on the present; so, the next time this happens it won’t be so difficult to try and remember the life of the child, who has just left home to make their way on their own.