Child number one gone - apron strings severed,

Well hello again.  I thought I would share my latest parenting milestone. Cutting the old apron strings, a damn sight harder than I expected it to be I have to say.  This episode quite obviously involves my first born and I must warn you that this blog is unlikely to contain a great deal of humour, a bit heart felt and self indulgent I'm afraid.  I have always been very proud of my eldest son (and my youngest son but this is not about you!!! ;-)), he has shown himself to be a very capable individual both intellectually, and physically.  He got himself a part a time job at the tender age of 12 and stuck to it until he was 16 and left home.  Always a very emotional child who seemed to feel things intensely, resulting in a few broken hearts, and a great many lost tempers.  However, his motivation and determination paid off and he realised his dream of joining the British Army just six weeks before his 17th birthday.  Now this is where my story really begins.

He had been accepted for the Army in January and was informed he would start his training in September, there was an outside chance that an opening would come up in March but it was unlikely.  This was all very exciting and I started to prepare myself for my eldest child leaving home, I made holiday plans in my head and imagined making the most o f the summer months that lay ahead before his adventure of the rest of his life began? Imagine my surprise (and horror and sudden fear) when I got a call at work on February afternoon telling me was leaving............in three weeks! Three weeks??? I was completely unprepared for this, I had nine months to prepare, not three weeks!  This was the first challenge, given that he was excited and ready to leave, I had embrace this change and rally round getting all his stuff ready.  Sending a child off to the the Army is expensive and time consuming, the list of kit was huge! But you are missing the point here, my eldest child, at a mere 16 years of age was leaving home!  Now for me, joining the Army is very different from going to university or getting their first flat. Joining the Army means an instant relinquishment of my parental responsibility.  I will no longer be doing his laundry, mopping up his vomit when he starts to learn the joy of alcohol, no more would I be checking the clock and staying awake until I know he is safely back in the fold. No more requests for money or lifts, cooking (or watching Tammy cook) meals that never get eaten. No, this all stops abruptly when they join the Army. They take on the responsibility for our offspring entirely.  Anyway, it was happening so I had to suck it up and get on with it and this I did with gusto.  We packed him up, filled his pockets with cash and his belly with food and said farewell to him on Mothers Day.  Tears were shed by all his family members and I was no different but it was a very proud day and not as traumatic as I'd expected. Off I went home and life was set to continue.

Then it happened, it was like a very private, solitary brick wall of grief! I was struck by quite an overwhelming sadness.  Up until this point I had been getting fit, getting healthy, finding my stride, well, all that stopped. I couldn't bring myself to change his bedding or clean his room, I needed it to remain untouched.  It really was as if he had died.  I didn't expect any of this, I thought I'd be tearful for a day or two and that would be it.  Hell  no! It seems I was gonna milk this bad boy!  I don't think it was helped by the distinct lack contact.  We tried to overcome this with endless texts, parcels and letters but to no avail.  It occurred to me in this time that child number one had gone.  I fear for his younger brother and sister, I have no intention of enduring this again, they are never leaving home, ever!!!!

Anyway, here we are seven weeks later, he has been home on his first leave for a week and I am reminded, in no uncertain terms, that he is not dead, he is very much alive, very much still only 17 and very much in need of parenting when not within the control of her majesty's service!  Within 20 minutes of driving away from Army college he informed me that he had forgotten his wallet and had no way of accessing his wages!  I guess this was all I needed to confirm that my recent grief, and all those fears of not being needed by my first born were unfounded. I am his mum, will always be his mum and will always be required to be his constant.  He goes back tomorrow and I am no longer afraid.  My apron strings, it seems, have not been cut, they have simply been replaced by elastic, :-)