that’s life Mother mopes about son moving out

By Tammy Keith

LITTLE ROCK — Well, he’s gone.

We moved my 18-year-old son into the college dorm last week. It was a long drive back home those 3.2 miles.

OK, so he’s still in town. But he doesn’t live here any more, and I miss him.

The morning of move-in day, I sat on his bed and watched him sleep, imagining him as that sweet little blond boy who used to say “I yuv you” and hug me tight.

He stirred, looked at me through half-open eyes and said, “What?” He did not use his kind, loving voice.

We moved him in the dorm, with the help of some fraternity and sorority members.

He looked around his new room and said, “Where’s our cut-out of Pam Anderson gonna go?”

I was pretty sure he was joking.

His roommate’s mother and I, longtime friends, were itching to help arrange their room. My son kept saying, “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”

I told him I was worried the minifridge would be in the way when he made his bed.

“Do you think I’m gonna make my bed for the next year?” he asked.

“You made it every day at home,” I said.

“Not anymore, not anymore,” he sang.

My son was sweet enough, however, to let me clean. I’m pretty sure the sink in the room hadn’t been cleaned since the last mother moved her son in.

He made another list of things for the room. I was happy to spend more quality time with him at Wal-Mart. I pushed the cart; he walked 10 feet ahead of me. When I tried to go down the cute, decorative bathroom aisle, he just said, “No.”

He plunked a boring white trash can in the cart, a couple of other things and said, “OK. I think that’s about it. Ready to go ?”

It was possibly the most unfulfilling shopping trip I’ve ever had.

My friend and I were having a good time hanging out in the boys’ room, reliving our college days (except my friend said she’d normally be having cigarettes and chocolate), but there were hints we weren’t wanted. Like when my friend asked her son if she could take anything home for him, and my son piped up and said, “Take my mom.”

He said something about seeing me on his birthday and Christmas.

I did see him the next day, when he came home to grab more stuff from his room - a St. Louis Cardinals pennant and a DVD player.

Then, in a flash, he was gone.

I noticed signs that he’d been in the house another day - he’d written Coke Zero on the grocery list and a few of his dirty clothes appeared in the laundry basket.

I lured him out of his college lair with the offer (by text message) of dinner at his girlfriend’sfavorite restaurant (bwa ha ha!).

I realize I have to let him go.

But I’m thinking about sneaking out tonight and throwing pebbles at his window to see if he’ll talk to me. I may enroll in some classes, too.

Can a mother get arrested for stalking her own son?

I guess we’ll see.

River Valley Ozark, Pages 146, 159 on 08/24/2008