89. Boarding school

    We had been preparing this for weeks, maybe months. I had got the list printed, checked the boxes as we went along, made notes, asked questions. I gave out cash for last minute purchases. I gave clear instructions such as 'this particular item is in this pocket, in this case, that bag, etc'. As usual I had this feeling that I was on top of it all. Mama in charge. I also had this feeling that everyone was fed up and lockdown now a distant memory. We all wanted to get our lives back. But it seemed that my son was living in an other dimension, in a world parallel to mine.

'Get your bags down, we're leaving in ten minutes.'

... Silence. I begin to stress. I fight it, we have a 'window' of two hours to drop him off and I am leaving so we get there at the start of the window. It's cool. We'll make it.

'Did you hear me? Time to leave now.'

His head comes round the door.

'Erm ... do you know where my padlocks are by any chance?'

That's it. One tiny sentence from him and I lose my legendary patience. 

'Are you seriously asking me that question? ... Are you? Well, don't! Please! Tell me you are joking, you think it's funny to test my patience like this? For days, weeks even, I have been instructing YOU to put them away somewhere YOU would find them! They've been on the dinner table for days, then on the desk, then back on the dinner table, then on the mantlepiece, then back on the desk. So YOU would get the hint and put them away somewhere. But oh no! Far to down-to-earth boring stuff from mummy, hey? You wanted to be the cool guy that takes it easy, the California surfing dude, well, there we are. What are you going to do now? Who's looking cool now?'

I stop to take a breath. And a surreptitious look around.

'What are you on about, mum? Seriously! I am just asking if you have seen my padlocks?'

See what I mean about parallel worlds?

'I even wrote your name on them!!' And as I am saying this I am suddenly reminded that I did not write his name on the case itself. It is a very large item but I am now convinced there is a possibility he could lose that too. Instantly I get sidetracked and I start looking around for a marker pen. Of course, being in my own house, it is difficult to locate my own possessions. He notices me looking in pen pots, rummaging through desk drawers (we've moved the desk and sorted the drawers and put them back in a different way which means I cannot find anything anyway. I'm done with decluttering sessions, even if we have a two-year lockdown).

'Mum, I don't think they'll be in there.'

'Well, at least I am looking!' I lie to my sweet boy.

But I have got a marker now, I race back to the huge case with it. He stops me.

'Mum, I am not 5 anymore. How on earth could I lose this! And do you see any of my friends rushing out with this trying to steal it?'

'Well, they are all rugby players. Worse, good rugby players, aren't they?'

He ignores that comment. I can't think why. To me, it explains a lot.

'Padlocks?'

Yes. Yes. Padlocks. I have an idea of where there are.

'Well, go look for them! Don't just stand there. They're not going to drop from the ceiling.'

He goes to his room.

'Put that marker away, please.'

He disappears up the stairs. I go to the big case, open it and indeed in the little side pocket sit two shiny copper padlocks with marker all over them.

'Have you found them?' I yell to him. He does not answer. I am being pathetic but it feels good so I carry on.

'Hurry up! We are going to be late! Have you got them?' And then, triumphant:

'I found them!' 

I think he says thank you. I don't know. I am so relieved. And so happy. The boy clearly needs his mother.

'Honestly! And how do you think you are going to manage without me?'