This is it.
Well, the bet from a few posts ago remains unwon. Miss 21 has failed to rile on all fronts! She's been jet lagged. She's done all her washing. She brought us lovely gifts - I'll show you another time.
She's making me so sad. Sad because she really will leave my house on Thursday for good. Yes she'll visit but this is it. She's going. Moving out for real. I'll be honest. I'm not coping.
I have been laughing it off with my 'can't wait for my craft room ' banter but I'd give it up in a heartbeat. Oh to turn the clocks back.
*puts on that Abba song that Meryl Streep sings in Mamma Mia* Slipping through my fingers. Ya know for added drama llama sympathy.
Even writing this is making me sob! I don't know if it's harder because she's not going to be just round the corner. She's going to be three hours drive away. Permanently. Not just at uni. Not just staying at the beaus. Not just on the other side of the world for eight weeks. They are moving to Gateshead. I don't care about the way I've brought up a smart, balanced, gorgeous, warm hearted, kind, loving, sweet beautiful girl, perfectly equipped for grown up life in a grown up world. I don't even care she's 21 and a half! She's frankly TOO YOUNG AND NEEDS TO STAY WITH HER MAMA!
And you lot can quit with the Miss Havisham scenarios!
Since she's been back from NZ, her and the beau have been slowly emptying her room and filling my dining room with boxes and stuff. You can tell she's here because I'm finding bobbles and hair grips everywhere ( usually left to give rusty marks on the bathroom surfaces ), the loo roll gets used up at an alarming rate, the kitchen is being taken over and the fridge emptied and my towel cupboard is empty. I'm not even getting mad about this! The piles of stuff in the dining room is reminiscent of getting ready to take her to uni just minutes ago. I was a blubbering wreck too then if you remember! In amongst those boxes of dinner sets, cushions, pegs, kitchen utensils are snippets of her childhood. Her teddies, her twilight posters, books, daft souvenirs she's kept from holidays.
I can barely see to type through big fat snotty tears. Crying silently so she doesn't hear. She's so excited to set up her new house. His family have been there decorating and cleaning it for them. The HG and I are doing our bit by buying them bits n bobs for the flat. I cried yesterday when I ordered her some new fitted sheets! I am an emotional wreck!
I know lots of you lovely lot have grown up children and have been through this, and survived. BUT I DO NOT LIKE IT ONE BIT.
They are off to Berlin today around lunchtime. I'll probably Be Brave until then and then try not to alarm Mr 18 by going all out wailing banshee on him. The HG has taken himself off fishing - to ( I think ) avoid any *scenes*. They'll be back Thursday. Then they'll try and pack as much as they can into the beau's little mini and they'll be off.
( We are taking the rest next weekend, and probably every subsequent visit for three years! She has a lot of stuff - including the telescope that's been in my room for ever! That's one thing in not sorry to see go. Think Hubble - it's that big! )
Right I'm going to get up and busy myself with some baking, laundry and back to back episodes of the Walking Dead and knitting.
I need to quit bawling. And get a grip! *Mentally slaps face saying snap out of it!*
I know this much:
Mr 18 needs to man up and get ready for some extreme mothering.
Lots of love from
Rachel *They don't tell you this in the baby books* Radiostar xxx