Happily we sent most of the children off in 2008 to their own lives and adventures. The only birdie in the nest/cage, is off to camp for the rest of the week. One followed the call to serve and is in Portugal. The other three, sometimes referred to as 86,87 and 90 respectively moved into that new and exciting land called marriage.
A family favorite movie lines comes from the Princess Bride: "Mawrrrige, Mawrrige is what bwrings us two-gether tw-ooday."
In all the years of growing up, we could watch that movie together and as soon as the rwidiculwous pwriest stwarted twalking, we'd all just roll with laughter.
Mawrrrige, as he calls it, brought our family together for a day, and now, we are pleasantly and most respectively going our own ways.
One of the three married ones has always been a most obedient and diligent daughter. In the past couple of months I told my husband, "90 needs me to cut a few more strings. I need to back away and give her own life."
What a challenge to put your all in to your kids and then to with one day, one event, what used to be good and appropriate is now just plain overbearing and I end up loowking as rwidicuoulwous as the pwriest in the Princess Bride.
I've been trying to quietly back out and down and cut the strings. Nevertheless, with Albert and his dictionaries as my witness, this process is much easier said than done. I always figured if I had to go to assisted living, I'd be the parent who calls my kids and says, " If you want your stuff, it's on the front lawn. Pick it up before tomorrow, because I sold the house last week and moved last night. This is my new address."
I never want my kids to have to say to me, " Mo-uummm" "you can't do that, don't do this", or have to be the ones to take away my drivers license. I want to suck it up accept change and be on the train to the next destination before they hear the whistle blow, so to speak.
But, as fantasy is always based in a wide angle lense of fiction, I've been living a fairytale. I admit, My name is Miss K and my seamstress skills are greatly lacking, I'm attached. I cannot manage to cut the strings. Oh, with great fanfare and decorum, I imagine I have. I proffer grand gestures and gallant words, " I don't know what you will do, but I bet you will figure it out." and then I catch myself being foolish pulling her back~ much to both of our annoyances. Oh how I love to fix things with my magic wand and my "fairygodmotherness." But Cinderella has her prince, and she does not need an off- balanced, Fairy Godmother in a hover craft over her shoulder any more. How obnoxious it must be to have me around like a washing machine off balance.... Cla Clunk, Cla Clunk Ca Clunk! Everyone KNOWS it should be stopped, and rebalanced.
As shakey as my aim is, every time the sharp pointy scissors are aimed towards the strings on her back ( the same ones that are attached to my heart) my hand instinctively turns a bit, and I only snip a tiny thread or two, keeping myself a bit too attached.
This is my vow:
I will officially cut the strings. I will let her go. I will watch her fly and bump her head into the branches from time to time. I will let my patent expire on my parental hovercraft. And put my beloved Fairy God Mother Magic Wand away. I will save it in my trunk of tools for the next generation.
