Call me Marlin.
My kids left on a jet plane on Friday. By themselves. Without their parents. And they're kids. Did I say without their parents?
Phil: I had a tough time when my oldest went out on the drop off.
Marlin: They just gotta grow up some--the drop off?! They're going to the drop off?! What-what-what are-what are we, insane?!
The good news is...they're visiting their grandparents. My son is healthy enough to fly! He's healthy enough to be without his parents (note: one of his PANDAS symptoms was separation anxiety.) The good news is: their grandparents kept apprising me of their status: "Leaving for the airport now." "At the airport so we can get passes to meet the kids as they get off the plane." "They're here!"
And my two babies who are no longer babies are having a blast! They don't want to come home.
But standing at the airport, handing over the doctor's letters that provide proof that they need to carry all those pills in their carry-on bags (sorted by morning/evening for both, with an icepack for the probiotics and Samento,) I fretted. OMG OMG OMG--what if something happens? What if the germs are cycled through the plane and my son gets sick? He's immune deficient.
That morning, I sprayed both kids with thieve's oil. I mixed it with the vodka that has sat for more than a year in our downstairs freezer and put it in a spray bottle. My daughter giggles at the idea of having real "alcohol" on her skin. A week before, when my son had a stomach bug, I did this (got the idea from a friend.) I sprayed my son's feet, sprayed my daughter and myself. My husband just laughed and said I was practicing witchcraft. Well, guess which member of the family got sick from my son? It wasn't the dog, either.
Dory: He said it's time to let go. Everything's gonna be alright.
Marlin: How do you know? How do you know that something bad isn't gonna happen?
Dory: I don't...
It took forever to get through "Special Services." I had to write descriptions of both kids and describe the clothes they wore. I had to write my dad's name, address and phone number. It took a very long time and all I could feel was gratitude for the thoroughness of Delta Airlines. They would look out for my chickadees.
And then, before we knew it, we hugged good-bye. The kids walked, grinning, to the door toward the plane and were gone from our sight.
At 10:35 AM, we were driving out of the airport. It was the time the plane was supposed to take off. We reminded ourselves that flying is safer than driving. I prayed my daughter wouldn't have to use the vomit bag.
The first day, they swam all afternoon. And swam again after dinner. My 11-year old daughter helped make dinner. And at 11:00 PM, the phone rang. "Hi Mommy, it's me, ..." (and she always gives her name as if I don't know who it is.) "I miss you so so so much!" And there were some tears.
Well, last year, she went to sleepover camp for the first time. It was an amazing respite from the agony of dealing with an older, sick brother. She told us she was homesick but later recanted, saying she only told us that to make us feel good.
This year, she happily returned to sleepover camp for two weeks and truly was homesick. Her brother is in a great place, it's the best summer our family has had in years upon years (except for my own horrible chronic fatigue, sudden anxiety mixed with gut pains in July, but I changed antibiotics to treat for bartonella and am not quite so tired or sick now, and, of course, there are my daughter's babesia symptoms.) But the glass is half-full now. It's a freaking five years and we're finally doing fine. Relatively speaking.
I knew she'd get over it. She had grandparents to nurture her there. And sure enough, the next day, we hardly heard from the kids at all.
I let them have that space. I knew they were happy, loved and secure.
So, what'd hubby and me do? Throw a small party!
In a few days, we'll return to the airport, an hour early, to sign in and meet them as they get off the plane. They will be different children from the ones who left. This is the first time my son has ever been away from home for an extended time...with the exception of a hospital stay when he was 9 years old, a hospital stay that should never have happened, a hospital stay for a boy whose doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. And a hospital that only permitted parental visits for two hours each day.
Now he's away. He's confident. We face-timed with the kids this morning and they were silly. They told us they had one argument and it was really a misunderstanding and they made up. Wow.
Marlin: I promised I'd never let anything happen to him.
Dory: Hmm. That's a funny thing to promise.
Marlin: What?
Dory: Well, you can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him. Not much fun for little Harpo.
They're definitely having fun.