Okay, this is a serious question: How does a mom-of-one deal with her son flying off to foreign soil and being out of touch for five days??
Yep, you guessed it — Domer’s on his way to Dublin, Ireland, for the Notre Dame v. Navy football game on Saturday, Sept. 1.
I’m ecstatic for him. He’s never been outside of the U.S., and being of Irish descent means this is a trip back to the motherland, of sorts.
But he’s going to be gone for FIVE DAYS!
“Ireland isn’t the end of the world,” he told me before he left. “We’ll be fine.”
But can’t you at least call or text me, to let me know you’ve arrived, I asked.
“International calls and texts are expensive,” he said.
Then how about e-mailing me when you get to the hotel, I suggested. If you get time.
“If I get time,” he agreed. “We’re going to be pretty busy, and our schedule is full.”
I know, I know. Just try.
Here’s the thing. I haven’t been a helicopter mom. Really.
I haven’t “smothercated” him with suggestions. Or advice.
I’ve done my best to ground him in the basics and gradually step aside so he can take tentative steps away. On his own path. Toward his own future.
But I’m just not ready to turn him loose completely. Is any mother ever ready for that?
My own mom would love having her “baby biddies” nearby, and we’ve been “adults” for a couple of decades now.
Domer’s 21. Legally an adult. He’s also got a sensible, level head on his shoulders.
And he’s thrilled at being selected to represent his university like this, playing his horn and cheering for his team.
The Irish are “coming home” to Ireland!
This is BIG. A never-before occurrence.
So I’ll do the only thing I know to do — put him in the hand of a loving God and pray Bon Voyage.
Or, in Irish, Go dté tú slán (May you go safely).