We had an impromptu sleep-over last night, prompted by the fact that my younger son lost the key to his house -- and his roommate was out. But who cares about the reason.
My older son is sleeping on cushions on the floor in our hotel room right now as I write this. And even though I'm in the dark trying not to disturb him (and jet-lag woke me up a long time ago), there's something cozy -- and homey -- about that. Kinda like when he was little. And I used to tiptoe around because I wanted him to sleep more. My younger son spent the night at his girlfriend's apartment.
Ran some errands for them yesterday. Both their cars needed major help, so we dropped one off to be fixed yesterday and today we'll take the other one in.
Even though we're supposed to be on vacation here (and we are), all I ever seem to want to do is write up a to-do list of what they might need -- and cross things off one by one.
I feel like they still need us to get through life. Or is it that I need them to get through life?
My younger son needs a new power cord for his computer and I suggested we go get one. "I can do that when you're not here, Mom," was his reply. Even though they're appreciative of the help, they don't want this week to be just about what they need.
My younger son, especially, wants this to be a fun week for us. He knows that the other times we've come to the vacation spot that is Charleston, it was always about him -- setting him up in his dorm, and then his house.
This is just about us seeing each other -- and spending some time together after being apart so long.
In the afternoon, we went to the beach for awhile. Friends of my younger son's drifted to where we were, everyone knowing exactly where to meet. My older son went off for awhile to take a personal call on his cellphone. Lots of stuff happening with his group of friends where he lives.
They both have lives.
It's me that needs a life now.
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