Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong.
And then sometimes -- in the most unusual ways -- I find out where I went right.
As I have talked about before, I am currently embroiled in a clash of the titans with Roo. She is champing at the bit to be a woman of independent means. I am holding on to my baby girl with all my might and trying to keep her from growing up TOO fast for her own good.
It's a difficult push-me-pull-you world we live in, the Roo and me, and it tends to make me a little focused on the struggle, rather than the successes.
So imagine my surprise -- my PLEASANT surprise -- when my son Z-man sent me a text message Friday morning.
It was a simple text, signifying nothing, and yet signifying EVERYTHING.
Thursday night -- LATE Thursday night -- Z and several of his friends took off for Coachella, a huge music festival that took over the polo fields in the Inland Empire of California this past weekend.
He's a big boy now. The world considers him a legal adult, and he'll be 21 in a couple of months. So for him to take off for three days of music -- Woodstock style -- is something that I cannot forbid. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't worry.
So I was the cool mom and waved goodbye, telling him only to be careful as they took off for parts unknown.
The next morning -- early the next morning, in fact -- that text came:
"We're all settled in out here. Wish me luck."
Excuse me, but did you get that? My almost-21-year-old son texted me to let me know that he had arrived and was settled in at the festival.
I blinked a few times, and texted him back: "Have fun ... and be careful."
And he answered: "I will."
The story gets even better because on Saturday, while Wonderhubby and I were out running errands, my phone rang in my pocket.
"Hello?" I answered, a little hesitantly.
"Hi, just checking in. Letting you know that I'm ok and we're having an amazing time ..."
The rest of what he said is a blur. He was calling to let me know he was ok!
I didn't think this could be topped until Sunday, when he texted me again, not only to tell me how great the music had been but also to tell me approximately when he would be home (sometime today).
I still have the texts on my phone. I'm sure I will leave them there for a long time, as testament to the moment when my son figured out that no matter how grown up you think you are, your mommy will still -- and always -- worry about you.
Crossposted at Mid-Century Modern Moms