Home

University child came home for a visit this weekend and a much needed respite from all things microwaveable. I spent most of Friday readying the house for her whilst offering up explanations for the flurry of domestic activity to the husband. And it hit me. I was in fact right smack dab in that grand circle of life thingie. I could almost see the  quizzical looks and hear the puzzled banter my Dad made with Mom as she scoured tubs and changed sheets in anticipation of our arrival from college bearing endless loads of soiled laundry. I am sure he made more than several grocery store runs so she could prepare our favourite comfort foods. He surely muttered and grumbled as she made the house sparkle and glow.

No doubt we also asked that Mom not go to any extra effort for our weekend homecomings. We surely complained to each other and to our friends that "good grief, you would think the queen is coming home. It is just us." We did not appear fully appreciative of the efforts to make our house look its best for us. We probably moaned and groaned at having to use cloth napkins and drink out of actual glassware. We probably said with a shrug as we filled the laundry room to capacity with our reeking clothing "don't worry, I'll get that tomorrow" knowing full well as if by magic our clothes would appear sometime later in the weekend clean and ready for our return to college.

We did appreciate the efforts though. There is no better night's sleep than the first spent at home in ones childhood bed after months in a university issued slab of torture. And I say night although it was often well into the next day before we would stumble downstairs to my father's "good afternoon" and Mom's welcoming pot of freshly brewed coffee. Our laundry would be in neatly folded piles waiting for us to rediscover clothing we had not laid eyes on in months. And despite Mom's continual  washing and drying of said clothing items since dawn, she was still smiling as she offered us piping hot muffins from the oven.  I get it now.

I am so grateful that when we went home my Mom didn't great us at the door with "final Jeopardy is about to start. There is a Lean Cuisine with your name on it in the freezer. Nuke it and we'll chat at the commercial break. Hurry though, Wheel of Fortune is on next and it is the holiday version". No, Mom had our favourites bubbling in the oven when we came home. We opened the back door to warmth and comfort and the delicious wafting aroma of a pot roast and real vegetables. Those visits home probably kept us from getting scurvy as the college version of fruit and veg is Strawberry Daiquiris, maraschino cherries and those  little bitty dehydrated peas and carrots  in just add boiling water  cup o'soup.

Dad complained a lot about the extra work we dumped on Mom. I know now that although enjoy is not quite the word one associates with musty soured towels lurking in the bottom of  a laundry bag since September, there is a feeling of accomplishment when said towels emerge clean and fluffy and smelling of a field of flowers again. There is a rather triumphant feeling when your child says that your roast/mac and cheese/pancakes/soup somehow makes everything all better again. All the hours scouring the tubs and toilets are worth it when child exclaims how those pretty, bright girls she lives with are actually grubby, nasty piggies and that she, of course, understands and appreciates good hygiene. This after leaving her towel/undergarments/yesterday's socks/jacket/computer in a Hansel and Gretel-esque trail throughout the house. Apparently she was afraid she wouldn't find her way back to her room without such a navigation system.

I get that as Moms we have to let go and allow our children to forge their own way in this world, but that we are always on stand-by for hot cocoa and pancakes and thick soups and stews to soothe the inevitable bumps and bruises this new adultish life inflicts. We Moms are the symbols of all things constant and dependable. Our homes are the safe havens and glorious retreats when the cool and hip bargain basement decorated pads suddenly seem cold and lonely. We help make the memories our kids reflect upon with a bit of melancholy when dorm life loses its novelty; when the hot water doesn't work, and there was a fire alarm at 3 am and the girl two doors down takes a favourite sweater and ruins it.

University child came home exhausted, weary and sagging a bit under the weight of academic pressures, too many four hour nights, and carb loaded cheap meals on the run. She left here this morning fortified with encouragement, dark leafy greens, good sleep, hot showers and the knowledge that while we see the beautiful capable strong woman she is becoming, we also know there is a bit of the little girl who still needs her Mommy in there too.