Son number two has done an Elvis and left the building. The husband and I had decided to get to his seaside hovel some time before he did yesterday morning. There were a couple of reasons for this. Firstly I was desperate to do mum stuff, like deciding what went where, making the bed and hanging the curtains (you'll be pleased to know that an appropriate pair were finally located - more of these later). Son number two had told me that he didn't want me doing any of this. Sod that...I'm a mum. It's in my job description, sandwiched in between washing socks and driving lessons. So getting there early, I got the chance to do all of the above and more.
Secondly, getting there early meant that when the other parents started tipping up around lunchtime, we were almost finished, and could make a relatively quiet getaway.
But enough of that, let's get back to the curtains. These were delivered on Friday, staying in the packaging until the great unveiling on the 'smaller than a shoebox' bed which son number two is sleeping in. I envisage diagonal positioning to ensure his feet remain covered. So I had bought some curtain hooks to put on the Swish rail, and utilised the husband to hang the curtains up (standing on a crate of beer in the absence of a stepladder). So far so good. As we pulled the curtains across the rail, the whole thing came away from the wall. The husband then pulled out his power tool (steady ladies) and drilled through the rail to the wall.
Unfortunately, this now meant that one curtain now covered three quarters of the window, and was impossible to open as the husband had screwed the curtain to the rail. Back out with the power tool, and tah-dah....we had a perfectly positioned pair of curtains which finally met in the middle. I was a bit disappointed with the Swish rail though. 'Swish' implies a smooth brisk movement, but this rail was more like British Rail ('We're getting there'). The curtains shuddered up that rail, making a couple of unscheduled stops on the way and eventually limped all the way back again. They won't take much abuse I'm afraid, but at least they are up.
So then is was time to say goodbye. I hadn't been looking forward to this bit of the day, but he simply gave me the biggest hug ever and told me he loved me. The hug went on longer than usual, and I savoured every second of it, and there were no tears from either of us. To see the happiness in his face and the excitement for his new life was enough for me. I had brought him to this point with love, meaning that he was now ready to fly. My job was done.
I got back into the car, and watched him walk away. Sensing that I was a little sad, as befitting a mother saying goodbye to her baby, the husband, ever sensitive to my changing moods, took my hand and murmured in my ear, 'Fish and chips?'
He always gets it right, that man of mine...