Kate with my mother below.

Sayonara. It was good knowing her. I like to mourn early, get it over with. A good offense is the best defence.

Julia, soon, it will just be the two of us, I’d say at the dinner table

Can I have her bed?

No, I am not dead Julia, Kate would retort. I’ll be home for Thanksgiving.

Thomas, at boarding school, was spared these weekly gloomfests.

What I wasn’t prepared for – not at all – is the emotional turmoil I experienced when Kate got engaged. Yes, on the one hand I was thrilled, I love Harry, her fiancé, and they are the cutest couple,

but on the other, I was feeling some dark, selfish thoughts:

Does that mean you’re leaving our family? Do you like Harry better than me? Is he now your number one?

And then in a double punch to the gut, the happy newlyweds

announced over this past summer that they would be moving. And I don’t mean moving downtown. I mean moving, moving. Across an ocean to London- where I used to live until I met Stretch and thought,

Ooh, a NYC boyfriend, how perfect, I can be closer to my kids.” Man plans, God laughs.

Last week, I helped Kate drag several duffel bags out to the car. First stop JFK, next stop LHR.

Later, I call my friend Jessica who has suffered a similar fate. Her daughter Annabella not only got married, but also lives in another country. Annabella lives in NYC, Jessica London.

It’s the pits, agrees my old friend. But the most important thing is that they’re happy.

I nod, halfheartedly.

Plus, we did it to our mothers.

OMG, I hadn’t thought of that.

Thirty odd years ago, both Jessica and I left the States, following our husbands to London. It never occurred to me then that the move would upset my parents.

I think when you’re younger, when it comes to your parents you’re very selfish, explains Jessica. I take a lot of crap from my kids, but I don’t mind because they’re going to take crap from their kids.

Good point, I say, cheering a little.

I remember when Annabella sprained her ankle, Jessica adds. The medical form asked for her next of kin. She started to write my name and then said, ‘Oh, I guess I should be writing my husband’s now. It was a shift.’

A shift? I think. Try tsunami.

Not feeling cheery anymore. I realise that it’s only a matter of time before my name disappears from all next of kin forms. Thomas and Julia, both in their twenties, could abandon me at any moment.

Stretch, am I your next of kin? I ask as soon as he walks through the door that night

He pauses.

Don’t tell me I’m not!

Well no, it’s just don’t you mean who is my emergency contact?

Fine. Am I your emergency contact?

Yes.

Good, at least somebody still loves me.

Fast forward to this past weekend. Stretch and I have just moved house in Greenwich.  He has important work calls. So, I do the breakfast dishes, unpack all our belongings, take out the garbage…  Stretch is in his own work world – not helping. When he gets off the phone in the bedroom, I ask:

Couldn’t you at least have made the bed, while on the phone? Can’t you multitask, at all?

No, I can’t, he replied.

And that’s when the lightbulb went off. Not only can Stretch not multi-task, no man can, including my wonderful new son-in-law.

Kate and I will always have that bond that all women have, we are the stronger sex. I may not be her top-dog, but I will always be her top-bitch.

October, 2020

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Have you had your baby yet? I asked as Elie snipped.

Yes, a week ago.  We named him Cosmo which means order, decency and beauty. I have to tell you that when I was holding Cosmo in the hospital, and I looked at my wife and our three-year-old son Marco, I thought, I’m good. I need for nothing in life but to provide for my family and make them happy.

I nodded and smiled.

That morning my 25- year-old son Thomas called me

‘Thomas?!’ I answered on the half ring.

No response.

Thomas? I said.

No response.

By the fifth ‘Thomas?’ I hung up and texted him.

In addition to getting accidental calls, I get accidental texts too

Elie has no idea what’s coming – I decide not to burst his bubble.

At least, when Stretch calls and texts me, it’s not an accident.  He, too, is an empty nester.

Seems to be AOK …

Maybe it’s a Mom thing.  Being a mother is complicated- first they need you to survive, and then before you know it, the only time you hear from them is when their cell does the dialling. Can a phone feel empathy?

I keep track of Kate via her fiancé’s Instagram stories. She’s usually smiling and dancing.

Sounds like she’s very happy, says my mother.

She is.

That’s the thing – you want your children to be happy and independent (!), but that doesn’t mean you don’t reminisce, a little. She, who sucked her thumb so much it shrank, now wears a gorgeous engagement ring (not on her thumb).

I got lucky with Julia. She had her wisdom teeth removed last week and Nurse Elena was at the ready.

Did I need to spend the whole day lying in bed next to the patient who was quietly watching Friends. You betcha.

This is the perfect way for you to be a nurse Mommy, no cooking required. I beamed with maternal joy.

Last summer Thomas had kidney surgery (he’s fine now, and thank you for asking). We spent some quality time together – Thomas, me and his catheter. I washed and cleaned and would have sung like Doris Day if I could carry a tune.

I know my therapist would  not approve if I confessed that I secretly hope my kids get just a little sick, enough to need a nurse, but not life threatening in any way. Thomas hasn’t had his wisdom teeth out yet- that kind of wishful thinking.

I told my mother that I didn’t know what I would talk about if I didn’t talk about my kids and coffee tables – I am furnishing a NYC apartment and had no idea how many coffee tables there are out there.

You’d just talk about your dogs, she quipped.

I don’t want to be that person, I answered.

When my friend Lauren became an empty nester she started sending her kids daily videos of their dog Rufus – drinking, sleeping eating, running. The kids almost did an intervention. Luckily, Lauren got the job she always should have had,  as a real estate agent, and is too busy now to send videos.

Lauren has always loved talking about other peoples’ houses, the way Londoners talk about the weather and New Yorkers the traffic. She would never tire of hearing me go on about coffee tables or my kids. Or my dogs. She doesn’t mind that I am that person. She is too.

Think I’ll call her right now.

I’ll leave you with this comforting thought from my heroine, Nora Ephron:

Insane people are always sure that they are fine. It is only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy.

Happy Summer!

July, 2019

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