I'm an out of control, control freak cleaning baseboards

They're growing up but they'll always be my babies

I'm a control freak--there I've admitted it; I'm told that's the first step.  I'm a control freak, and lately there seems to be nothing I can control.  As I told my therapist yesterday, and my best friend, and my husband (control freaks talk a lot), I feel like I am being given puzzles to put together but people are holding back some of the pieces.  I'm an out of control control freak, so yesterday when I lost all control, I did what all good out of control, control freaks on the brink of a break down do, I cleaned baseboards.

Two days ago Avett's seizures were increasing; it seemed bad. I was prepared for the worse.  Boss took him to the vet and hallelujah, they said he just needed his meds adjusted.  He brought him home, and he continued to throw up all day. (Avett not Boss) Thursday night William woke me up to tell me he was having a horrible seizure, so he and I sat with him through the night and into the morning.  He couldn't move. (Avett not William) I knew in my heart it wasn't just a matter of medicine adjustment.  We took him to the vet.  I was right--sometimes I really hate good intuition.  I called Chris and he brought Caroline because she wanted to say goodbye.   I stood there while my sweet son held Avett's face in his hands and whispered to him that he was a good dog and it was going to be okay now; he could just go to sleep.  My babies hearts were breaking, and there was nothing I could do but hold their hands and hug them.

In the age of social media, I knew I had to let SK know.  She's in Philadelphia--something else I can't control.  She's at the Episcopal Youth Event with people from all over the country--friends she only gets to see once a year; friends she loves dearly, but it's hard.  She also wants to be here for her friend's birthday; she's with other youth learning new things to bring back to their Dioceses, but she won't be coming back to the Diocese as a youth.  She's leaving for college.  She's growing up and right now living that tension between high school and college, between being a youth and a young adult; it's hard; it's emotional, and there's nothing I can do.  I try, but honestly it seems like everything I say is wrong.

Yep--sitting right there to hear how inappropriate one
his priest's (that he ordained) is

Control freaks have such a hard time just listening when someone they love is hurting. I am trying though--I even sent her a text daring her to start singing "99 bottles of beer on the wall" on the bus touring Philadelphia.  I wanted her to smile; I was desperate--clearly desperate since I knew Bishop White was sitting right in front of her--an out of control, control freak mama will do anything to make her babies smile.

Anyway, I called SK and told her.  I HATED DOING THAT!!!  I hated having to tell her something that important, that big over the phone.  You know what I hate even more?  This is the first time but not the last that I will have to tell her something big over the phone because she won't be here.  She's leaving for college and then for life, and I can't stop it.  And darn it, I've got three more that will be doing the same thing.  One day there will be a time I have to call them all to tell them something big--happy big or sad big--and I won't be able to hold them.  This time there were people I could let know.  I texted the Bishop and Ben to tell them so she wouldn't be alone, but next year who will I text?  Who will be there for her if I have to call her with something big?  I am so out of control.

We got home from the vet, and I paced the house looking for things, for people, for anything to control.  Ahh the truck!  I can make Boss get up and take the truck to get the air conditioner fixed.  He said he would get to it sometime today, but I can control this.  I CAN MAKE HIM TAKE IT NOW!!!  I can control what he does--oh happy dance for me!!!  (It helps in controlling him that it is 90 degrees outside and he is hot as hell driving around in that truck--not really good for dating--and he is an almost 17 year old boy!  Control freaks use whatever means they have for control including hormonal 17 year old boys.)  I loved that he asked me why he had to go then and I could say, "Because I want you to do it now so I know it will get done today."  Seriously in my head I was singing, "I'm in control of you; I'm in control of you; I can make you take the truck to get fixed; I'm in control of you."  And now I can start cleaning those baseboards!

Twenty minutes later the phone rang.  "Mama," Boss said (Oh please please please don't be another wreck.  Please please please), "I've got a flat tire.  I"m on 64 west near exit 7."  I breathed a huge sigh of relief and told him I would call USAA roadside assistance.  "You're not coming?" he incredulously asked.  How was I going to explain to him that I couldn't come--I was busy trying to control the universe by cleaning baseboards.  And besides he was a 6 foot 17 year old boy, he's be fine--would I have gone for one of the girls?  Absolutely--I said I was a control freak not a politically correct control freak!  I just answered there was nothing I could do, hung up and called USAA.  They got there very quickly to change the tire--love USAA.  Boss called me back, "There's  no spare."  ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?!?!?!  I called USAA back and they said they'd send a tow truck and that he could just ride with the driver to the tire shop.  This was not the answer he wanted when he asked, "Now are you coming?"  In my head I said, "still cleaning baseboards, I've got one star controlled lots more in the universe to handle" but out loud I said, "You'll be fine; it won't be long."  How wrong I was.

Every 15 minutes my phone would buzz with a text--very difficult as I had to take the rubber gloves off to respond.  They still weren't there; he was hot (no kidding I wasn't yet in control of the weather and even if I were it would stay hot); he was hungry; he had taken medicine the doctor told him to take with food without food and he felt sick ("A good lesson to listen to the doctor", I thought, "if I could only make him feel sick every time he didn't listen to me--another thing I can't control!"  I'm not sure I have enough baseboards in this house.)  After 2 hours, Mama Bear control freak had had enough.  I called the towing company.  "My son," I angrily, calmly but firmly said, "has been stranded on the side of the road and ya'll told me it wouldn't be long.  It's been over 2 hours.  He is a teenager alone.  This is not okay."  (Only I get to decide what he has to handle on his own as a teenager, and hell hath no fury like an out of control control freak mama)  The woman on the other line kindly said, "Ma'm I'm very sorry.  We only have one driver right now.  You know that tow driver that was killed last week on the interstate?  He was one of ours and everyone is at his memorial service right now.  But I understand and will make sure the driver is on his way."  Seriously?!?!?!?  It is so hard for me to ever hold anyone accountable that we hire; I finally do it and find out that it's because of a tragic death?  I told her I was sorry for their loss, thanked her, hung up and hoped that it didn't say "clergy" on my membership.  Fifteen minutes later--after 4 calls from the driver trying to find Boss (seems he thought 7th street not the 7th exit--but I was nice), he was there and I could get back to cleaning baseboards.

As I was cleaning I thought, "they better not get this house filthy while I'm at camp next week."  Why did I have to think that!?!?!?!?  Something else that is weighing on my heart--this is the first time I'm going to junior high camp as the chaplain without one of mine being there as a camper.  I love All Saints; I can't wait to be there, but it will be different this year.  I don't know how it will be different, but I know it will be.  I despise the unknown that has the potential for being hard and emotional.

So I'm cleaning baseboards.  I'm cleaning baseboards and marveling at how awesome they look not covered in dog hair and dirt but shiny and white.  I'm cleaning baseboards not because they won't get dirty again-- they will.  As I clean I think about what I don't want to know but do.

Getting some sleep after being up all night

I know I will have to watch my babies hurt again: I will have to make hard phone calls again; I will have to be at All Saints without them--they will eventually leave senior high camp too--they will move out and move on, but thankfully they will always have the gifts they received at All Saints.  I am cleaning baseboards in this house, in our home, knowing they will get dirty again, maybe even next week while I'm at camp. Baseboards will get dirty again in this house,our home and I realize that life will continue to get messy and dirty--relationships will get messy and dirty.   We will have more times of  laughter in these walls and  there will be times tears.  There will be more and more things I cannot control; they will make choices I may not agree with and that I cannot control.  As I clean these baseboards I am reminded that life, this wonderful, messy beautiful life is not always (read rarely ever) something we can control.  We can clean up--we can bring love and laughter and forgiveness into this messy world, into our messy lives, into this house with dirty baseboards--but things will get dirty again.  I am an out of control, control freak cleaning baseboards and realizing that my babies are growing up, life is changing, and I can't stop it.  They will move on, but the love, the faith, the memories, the bond, those remain even when they are covered with dirt.

So I'm cleaning baseboards--to remember.