Wednesday, 22 May 2013

A Labour of Love

My eldest son's flatmate played a (not very funny) practical joke on him this week - he hid something which my son then frantically hunted for, not understanding how it could not be where he had left it.
When I saw him later that day he was distraught about his "loss" - so I offered to take his keys and look for it for him.
English: Housewife by Wascator laundry machine
English: Housewife by Wascator laundry machine (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Now I'm not exactly a model housewife. I do the floral pinny-wearing, homemade cake-making and teapot pouring bit of being a 1950's housewife quite well in a Cath Kidston-esque, liberated woman choosing to stay at home style. But as for actually beating rugs and scrubbing floors on my hands a knees.... not so much.
But when I opened his bedroom door I realised the only thing I could do was tidy his room and hunt for the missing item as I cleared. I would just like to point out in his defence that a. he didn't ask me to and b. unlike me, he works full time and does a fair bit of overtime and messy as it was, his room was still tidier than mine is.
So I got to work. It took quite a while and although the room was tidy, cleaned and hoovered by the end of it, I still hadn't found what I was looking for. (There's a song there somewhere...feel free to join me singing it loudly now if you know it)
Along with crawling under his bed, searching through his bin and even checking inside his pillow cases I even went through his sizeable washing pile checking pockets with no joy. And being a good mom I decided to help him out by taking his washing home and doing it for him. He has never asked me to do this but I felt so sorry for him I thought it might be some consolation.
Later that day his friend confessed to his prank which left DS#1 delighted - and me with about 5 loads of washing!
I'm nearly done. The last load is on the line in a fit of hope vs reality since the sky is overcast and it looks like rain. All that's left to do is deliver it back later.

but also an adult
still my child...
But do you know? It sounds like I'm complaining but I'm really not. I miss my eldest. I don't see as much of him as I'd like which is right and proper. I'm happy he's independent and settled. But tidying his room and doing his washing gave me a sense of connection and of feeling useful one more time. I'm sure it won't be long before a partner and children and geography relegate me even lower in his list of priorities. So I'm making the most of the fact that for now he's close by and I am still one of the first people he calls for help and support.

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