My feminine side or my inner wimp or what?

I had a flash of honesty today, and took advantage of the fact that Melissa has a bad cold or mild flu to confess it to her while she was in and out of consciousness.

I was remembering the day that our older kid (the one without special needs – do we ever mention him?) moved out for college. It was way hard on Melissa. Soon, he will move across the country altogether to serve in the Navy, and I think that day will be hard on her, too.

His moving out wasn’t hard on me. He came into the world with a lot of gifts and we evidently didn’t screw those up too badly. I had and have all kinds of confidence in him, so watching him move about is a satisfying vicarious adventure for me.

But as I thought about his departure (here comes the flash of honesty), I thought as well about Joey (our autistic son) moving out into a group home, probably in the summer of 2015. And I became very uncomfortable – in fact, I got downright moody.

I have all kinds of good feelings about the local group homes. We’ve toured them and Joey currently has his day program with the agency that runs them. Great people – no worries about that.

And Joey’s health is good and improving all the time. No seizures in ages. Off of several meds and doing better without them. Seldom gets sick. So I don’t worry about that.

It’s just that all the care giving, frustrating as it’s been (as reflected in the blog title, right?) has built bonds and opened up tender places in my heart that will cause me pain as he moves out.

Yes, we are ready to be empty nest. Yes, we are ready to have some kind of normalcy in our domestic life.

But when Joey moves out, I’m going to feel it in ways I’m just now starting to perceive. I’m gonna need some privacy and kleenex, and maybe some Patron when that time comes.

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