Well, I survived Marat's send off, not without many, many tears. Yesterday was a hard day letting go of my only son. It was harder than I thought it would be, after all, I had worked so hard to bring him home that I really didn't want to let him go but I knew that I had to. It is interesting, this past month, I have been calling James by his given name Marat a lot more. I know he prefers James because it helps him feel like he is more a part of our American culture, but I have always liked his name, Marat, because it is unique and it is part of what makes him, him. Anyway, I digress. Leading up to his departure, I made sure to get as many hugs as possible this past week by making a new family rule: Any time I asked for a hug, he had to hug me, no arguments, no protests. And the hug would last as long as I wanted it to last and he had to hug me back until I let go. Surprisingly, he didn't complain and gladly hugged me every time I asked. Sure he pretended he couldn't breathe and faked passing out a few times, but it was so comforting to be able to hug him as much as I wanted this past week. When he got on the bus, he immediately called me and we talked a few minutes and I knew the bus would pull out soon, so I told him, "I think you need to get off the bus and give your mom one more hug." He jumped right off the bus and we held on for what seemed forever and not long enough at the same time. Within a minute of reboarding, the bus was pulling out of the lot and he was gone.
We texted for the next half hour or so as I went to work and the next hour or so, it became apparent that the reality was hitting him and he was crying on the bus. The next few hours took way too long as he made his way to his new home, but we skyped last night and it looked like he was settling in pretty easily.
So today I went out to the mailbox and found a present. But before I give it way, I need to give you some back story. When we were on our family vacation earlier this summer, we stayed with my good friend Misti from doctoral school. She has known James since our first days in Greeley and has always been a good friend to him, almost too good of a friend because when he wrecked her car, she was like, "meh, these things happen." I had to have a heart to heart with her that wrecking a car without having permission driving it or a license to drive it just "doesn't happen" and that his life as he knew it at the time was about to end. Anyway, I digress again. So Misti and James decided it would be fun to scare the crap out of his moms by sneaking a plastic cockroach on our shoulder at different times. They were completely proud of the fact that I almost had a heart attack--I SO don't like pranks that make me jump out of my skin. When we left Misti's house, she gave him his very own plastic cockroach. So, back to the present. When I went out to the mailbox this afternoon when I got home, I found this in the newspaper tube:
Misti would be so proud, but so disappointed that I did not jump out of my skin for the first time in my life. Instead, I smiled and poked it with my phone just to make sure that it really was his cockroach and then brought it in the house. I think I may slip it into his bed when he comes home to visit. Misti would be so proud!
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