I’m trying to smile

After all, it’s Valentine’s Day and I got a card. Even remembered to give one too.

And I planned a sappy post, complete with a picture of the first card I ever received. It was a cute card, hand made by a ten year old boy in my class. Though I nearly died of embarrassment when he gave it to me, in the middle of the hall, with all his mates watching. And laughing. But I kept it, and to this day I smile at the thought of how much work he put into it. In fact, I don’t think anyone has ever put as much work into a Valentines for me since!

But you’ll notice the picture isn’t here. Can’t be bothered. My heart’s not in it.

Today isn’t just Valentine’s, it’s also the day my eldest, R, leaves to go skiing. It’s been planned for months. And I’ve been fine with the idea. Happy for him. Even a little envious. But now it’s today. And I feel sick.

Actually I want to cry (kind of am, but don’t tell anyone because they’ll think I’m an idiot). He’s only away for ten days. But he’s never been away for so long before. And it’s such a long way away. Lucky little sod is off to the UK today, and then Colorado, tomorrow. Half a bloody world away, and too far to get to him if he needs me. In fact even phone calls are going to be difficult with the time difference, and him being out on the slopes all day.

Not that he would need me. Probably won’t. He’d better not, or I swear he’ll never go away again! I’ve made sure he’s got his allergy pills and inhaler, so he doesn’t end up in hospital, like he did last time. (Not that he’ll be seeing any horses. Unless they have sledges like Austria. But I’m not going to start worrying about that, because he knows to stay away from horses. Umm, better remind him at lunchtime.)

I know I’m being silly. And I know when the BH reads this, he’ll end up teasing me for my fretting. I mean, the boy drives us mad half the time, so surely I should be glad of the break? He even managed to annoy me this morning, when I was trying not to cry for heaven’s sake! He walked past his brother and pushed him for some childish petty reason, which only makes sense to an eleven year old. So his brother shouts out, ‘Mom, R just punched me!’ And then R turns around and says, ‘That’s not a punch! Shall I show you a punch?!’

I’m busy spreading jam on toast and trying to smile and be all perky because it’s Valentine’s and because he’s only going for ten days, and say ‘Only if you want to see the door, R!’ I’m annoyed because he made me berate him, when all I really want to do is hug him and tell him to be careful. Which I already did last night.

And part of me thinks back to when I was eleven, by his age I was at boarding school and having to do my own washing (by hand!!). I was always hopping on and off planes by myself. And he’s not even going to be by himself, as he’s travelling with my parents. So what’s the big deal?

I don’t know. I’m just being silly I suppose, and I can’t tell anyone because they’re going to think I’m an idiot. In two weeks time, it’ll feel like he’s never been away, and I’ll be laughing at myself! I hope.