Wednesday, August 17, 2011

last day (lyn)

So here’s what it looks like.

We begin with laundry.  Lots and lots of laundry, all Alexander’s.  He drags it to the basement to sort and throw in the washers.

While he’s doing that, I do a thorough inside-out cleaning of my toaster oven.  I get carried away and ask Alexander to clean the metal trays on the Griller that he uses for his grilled cheese sandwiches.  He ignores the request and instead asks,  “What’s for breakfast?”  Can you make eggs?”  I tell him I don’t have any but if he wants to go over to Agata to get them, I’ll make them.  Or, I suggest, just take some cereal.  His response?  “I’m over-worked and under-fed.”  He eats the cereal.  I eat raspberries in some yogurt.

I ask him to pour from the gigantic sized bottle of Tide into a smaller one to make it easier for me to carry.  “I bet you’re going to miss having me around to do all your chores.”  And before I have a chance to answer he adds, “And I’m gong to miss being able to order you around.”  I will miss his humor.  There are few people who can make me laugh out loud.  He’s one of them.

10am to noon
I open a big chest in my room and pull out Alexander’s winter clothes for him to go through.  “Here, I want you to decide what you want to take.  Make a pile of things you’ll never wear, pack what you want, and put the rest in your drawers.”  His response?  “I read a study that nagging can make you gain weight.”

Alexander slowly packs up, while watching endless episodes of South Park.  Seems like he’s packing everything.  “Hey, mom,” he shouts at one point.  “I think I have enough clothes to last me through the semester without having to do a laundry.”  I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s his goal.

In the middle of it all, he says, for maybe the first time, “I’m excited.”  Strangely, I’m really not sad yet; it’s such a great time for Alexander.

I run out to get a manicure/pedicure and pick up some eggs.  Alexander gets his much-needed haircut.  I come home and make Alexander an egg-onion omelet and I have some amazing tomato/vegetable soup from Fairway.  I’m saving my appetite for tonight.

The living room looks similar to the way it did at 11.  Clothes everywhere, nothing in bags (we’re using big trash packs for packing…they take up little room).  “C’mon, I’ll help you put these things in the bags.”  “No, that’s okay,” Alexander says.  He’d rather I stay in my room so he can work at his leisurely-in-no-rush pace.  I take a picture and then retreat to my room.

The Griller is still unwashed.  "I'll do it in a sec," Alexander said this morning.  If I remind him, I'll be accused of nagging.  If I do it for him, I'm teaching him a bad lesson.  What's a mother to do?  Wait, I guess, and hope it gets done.

Unbelievable.  Alexander has packed up everything.  He leaves himself 10 minutes to jump in the shower and get ready for dinner.  We meet Shari and Sam (her son and Alexander's friend) for dinner at T-Bar.  Before even getting to the restaurant, we know what we are having:  the tuna tartare appetizer, a hamburger, and fries.  We've had this exact meal before and it's something to look forward to, and certainly worth the splurge.  

I'm home.  Alexander is at Sam's.  It feels like any night.  But it's not.  My penny jar is empty.

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