Today, my mind is stuffy…

Today my mind is stuffy not unlike my body. My sinus is riddled by allergies probably brought on by soaring temperatures in Kingston the air above which has been stifled by a blanket of smog more akin to cities celebrated for their poor air quality like L.A., Beijing and Dubai. Here in my fourth pregnancy, the expected overly active mucous characteristic of the third trimester of pregnancy has responded to these conditions with a vengeance that rivals some 13^th century dark lord of eternal doom.

My energy also has taken a nosedive. Thank God and my husband for a rare day that didn’t require me setting foot in my car and coming off this hilltop called home and affording me the rare luxury of naps. That’s right you read correctly that was “naps” plural…not 1 but 2. Even with the 2 naps I still found myself feeling like I needed to be scraped up off the floor in order to get dinner together which while yummy was no great gastronomic feat. Chili (black beans, black-eyed peas and chicken mince) atop a bed of plain rice topped with cheddar and surrounded by a ring of shredded lettuce, salsa and corn tortillas chips.

Again, thank God for small mercies. “Bedtime” clocked under an hour this evening and was blissfully absent of crying, screaming or issuance of ultimatums. Somewhere upstairs in the peace of this quiet house, I hear my eldest, exactly 1 week shy of 14 years old, packing his bags to go away for what seems like will be an eternity. I remember his birth as though it were yesterday. Everything was perfect, I wouldn’t have changed it, not the 3 days of labour, not the mad dash to the hospital, not the body-defying wait for the arrival of Sondra our midwife while he was crowning eager to burst into this world, not one thing would I change.

His father and I went our separate ways when the budding teenager was the tender age of 3. Ever since then, I have been what the law deems the ”primary custodial parent”. I was there when he took his first steps into “big school”, I was there when he stuck a potpourri pellet into his ear requiring a trip to the ER for removal – much to the chagrin of the resident on-duty. I was there through every wheeze and cough of the asthma that plagued his younger years. There through all his phases, the angry confused kid that missed his dad, the hot wheels freak that just HAD to have at least 5 or 6 stuffed in his pockets at all times, the times he announced he had renamed himself, his love of the sea, his love of science, his unique eclectic beyond his years taste in music and food, his disdain and agony with math. He spends his summers, every other Christmas and Spring Break with his dad and enjoys a close relationship with him.

He has been there as I transitioned from working actor to teacher/dues-paying journalist. He was there when we got our first apartment for “Just the Two of Us”. He was there when I had the mini van that blew a head on a wrong turn down the Florida Turnpike. He was there when I had the little blue Toyota Corolla with the grey patches whose a/c wasn’t what you would call effective. He was there when I took my first “real job” in publishing, when I stepped up to the “second-hand new” Altima whose a/c blew damn near frosty. He was there when I fell in love and got married. He was there when we embarked on our adventure and return to Jamaica to start a life as a blended family. That was 6 years ago.

Through it all he has possessed my true, unwavering and abiding love.

After much agonizing and tearful consideration, it has become clear that the best thing for him is to watch him pack his bags and start a new life with his dad. His dad now has what will be the best educational opportunity at this critical juncture. Next year his academic performance is officially on the books. It will be the measuring stick by which he will be judged. It will determine opportunities and possibilities. In short, it matters - BIG.

Although I know it is the best choice of the array of choices before me, it is still a bittersweet one.

I have played mind games with myself over the past couple of moments in preparation for the inevitable. I have remained focused on preparing him for finals, gathering documents, familiarizing at her request his new step mom (an angel) with his likes and dislikes. I have tried to celebrate the fact that the role of “the full-time ball-busting parent” will soon be relinquished for a role of the “fun-time vacation parent”. All smokes and mirrors people, for inside a little piece of me is truly dying.

A piece of me is wrought with worry. Will his dad REALLY be able to guide him through the minefield known as adolescence or provide the guidance to support him to maximize the opportunity? Will he WANT to come “home” for the summer holidays? Will he still need me?

Just as the tears start to well up in my eyes, he comes down the stairs with a wistful forlorn look on his face, “Umm mom my stuff won’t fit. I think I’m gonna need your help”.

Hmm. Perhaps all is right in the world after all.