Whoosh

Originally Written: July 27, 2014

Last night, I dreamed that my son was about three inches tall. I put him in the washing machine with a bunch of plastic toys: sand buckets, shovels, watering cans, etc. When the cycle finished, he was nowhere to be found, washed down the drain, I presume.

I don’t know where that came from. My son is old enough to have high cholesterol. I was horrified in the dream, and felt immeasurable guilt. I promise that I have done nothing horrible to my son in my waking life.

The only thing I’m guilty of is loving him too much, but that’s all mothers, all sane mothers. I always say that codependency is a normal state for mothers. That’s a little joke, but there’s truth to it. We have a hard time with separation. That’s why kids get so nasty in their teen years. We’d never let them go if they didn’t drive us half crazy. If they didn’t do most of the breaking away, they would still be in their rooms at 40, their stinky socks and underwear piling up until we did their laundry. Just know that once they’re gone for awhile, you’d join the Witness Protection Program if they wanted to move back home.

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