I have been like a leaking bucket for weeks; whilst in no way not wanting the kids to leave to go to Uni, I’ve struggled with the concept of two of my team of four moving out to halls.
I’ve cried over yoghurt in the supermarket (Mollys favourite), a recipe for toad in the hole set me off last week, as on the rare time I cook – Owen is quite partial to a Richmond sausage in batter.
I read all the parent guides about holding it together and would say I entirely failed in this area.
Today, I had huge gulping sobs in my daughter new bedroom, trying to spit out words that I adored her and was so happy for her…
I mean, I think she got the point.
And is it so terrible that the kids know how much they mean to me? I am equally as good at shouting as I am telling them they are my world…
As always in our lives, nothing goes off without a challenge.
Today, we discovered, we aren’t great at packing for University. Turns out no one greets you at the car to help you move in, It’s not even offered as an optional paid for extra.
It turns out just launching things into IKEA bags and big storable boxes makes it very hard to move in a few short trips.
After losing my shit several thousands of times as we tried to park; we eventually secured a spot outside my eldest twins new home (well a decent 400 metre sprint away).
We noticed quickly most people came in pairs with a student, meaning far less trips to the room and back.
Single parent Pettit here, with no sniff of a significant other in years, was flying solo, with bags of stuff and boxes of emotions.
We cracked on.
Trip after trip was endured. Over the pavement, through reception, via the yard, into the lobby, up on the lift, into the flat, down to her room.
Then….
On trip 3081…
The elder twin wandered in front of me with an IKEA bag overflowing. I balanced three boxes, effectively blinding myself, but we had mastered the route.
Until…
I heard a crash,
Heard the twin snigger in embarrassment.
Then I stepped onto the yet unbuild laundry basket (that had dropped from her arms to the floor) in the student halls reception.
Time froze momentarily..
My foot wavered, then wobbled and started to rise. My ass started to lower towards the ground, the boxes leapt from my arms scattering into other oncoming drop off parents.
Time sped up and my quite sizeable ass thundered to the floor as I tried to prevent my fall with a turn, meaning instead I did a combat roll into the wall ending in what can only be described as a crumpled heap with a swelling ankle.
With an audience.
You know you have hit a certain age point when people put their shit down to check you are not dead.
And that is how I dropped my first born off at University….
Falling in halls….
(Update: she is loving it, as she should be, and I am loving that she is loving it, but have been found since then, sat in her room waiting for her to appear with cups of tea. Its so alien, to be so happy for them, and lost without them!)
I have seven days left with Twin 2 until I go fall over in his Halls of Residence.
Four years with the smallest…
Life goes on..