Missing Piece

Tonight DD2 went to a friend's house for a sleepover. This isn't really a monumental event for us, although it certainly isn't a terribly common one. As a family we are ridiculously close to one another - in part because that's the growing up experience both DH and I had, and in part because of the whole triplet thing. Who needs friends at other houses when you've got some in your own house? Growing up, I can clearly remember my Mom forcing me to join various youth groups and events, and literally sitting me down and saying, "Michelley, you need to GET OUT of the house more and hang out with kids your own age. It's not healthy for kids to want to spend time with their parents."

Healthy, shmealthy, I still love hanging out with my Mom and siblings and let me assure you, my Mom just wishes I could hang out with her more than I already do.

So DD2 went off to her friend and the remaining four of us went to a function. I'm sitting at the function, and the entire time I'm thinking, "Where is DD2I haven't seen her in a while, has she eaten yet? Where's she gotten to?" and then it takes a second or two for me to remember that DD2 isn't even there. I am just so used to thinking about three other people that it takes a while for my brain to engage into thinking only about two of them. Then of course when we got home, DD1 (who has shared a room with her sister her entire life, and her brother until recently), got into bed and burst into tears. "I miss my sister," she cried, "I want her to COME BACK." In a moment of perfect timing, the phone rang and it was DD2 calling to wish us all goodnight. I let DD1 speak to her on the phone, and my heart was in pieces as she literally cried, "Please, please PLEASE come back! Please?!" She was crying so hard that it was difficult for her to speak...and I couldn't help but wonder how these three will survive when one of them decides to go somewhere for longer than a few nights. When one of us is away, it just feels as though a piece of the puzzle is missing. It's quite disconcerting.

Tomorrow morning, I have to wave goodbye (and try not to cry like a total idiot) when DS goes away on Cub Scout camp for a week. Okay, 5 days, but saying "a week" makes it sound better, like I'm suffering properly for a long time. My boy - my only son - is heading off to the mud and dirt and wind and rain and endless hours of testosterone fuelled fun - and I won't be there for even a minute of it. (Which, from a comfort point of view, I'm grateful for. But from a "my baby, my BABY!" point of view, I'm none too happy about.) For an entire week, I'll be missing a big (literally and figuratively) piece of my family puzzle. I just know I'll be constantly waiting for him to come home from walking the dog, or waiting for him to get out of the shower, or cooking meals which are too big by one serving, or feeling slightly annoyed that there are no smelly boy socks lying around or copies of Harry Potter to fall over for the 3rd time that day.

Sigh.

I'm going to miss my boy. I'll probably cry at the bus stop when he leaves, like a big ol' embarrassing baby...but I know he'll be back, full of stories (and bugs and mud and dirty clothes) and he'll be better for having had such a fabulous experience. And even though I hate to admit it, I'll be better for the reminder that the best two gifts you can give your children are roots and wings.