Surprise

You know those smiles you feel pulling from the tips of your toes all the way to your ears? The kind that ripple in and out through the following days- regardless of what ensuing chaos has taken their place- mellowing frustrations and resurfacing thoughts of the circumstance that brought them? I have one of those smiles right now. I just had one of the most priceless experiences (and, yes, I’m gonna be patting myself on the back for a long time for thinking this one up!!)

Our life is so jam packed with life-enriching activities, intended to help the boys grow up to be learned, well-rounded adults one day, that we sometimes can’t even fit in the time to celebrate when they have arrived. Ross’s 13^th birthday was quickly approaching, and unlike the past 12 years, I did not have a clue what we would do to commemorate it. No ticker- tape parade, no theme destination, and for the first time in his existence, no big, wacky cake from mom. We talked about a few ideas, and of course, his trip to Europe is more present than any kid needs to mark the passage from childhood to early adulthood. But something was missing. The older the boys get, the fewer opportunities we will have to be a part of their festivities. Soon, they will be looking forward to spending their time with friends and love interests, and their own families, and we will hope they are inviting us. And that is as it should be. But that time is not yet here, and I intend to wring every last hurrah out of the time we have left.

As I looked at our calendar and realized (somewhat tongue and cheek) that the only time we might have for a party would be at the crack of dawn or at midnight, it soon dawned on me that it really wasn’t too far off from the truth. Then, a thought occurred to me. Remember those kidnap breakfasts people used to do back in high school and college?? Where you barged into your friends’ rooms, dragged them out of bed in their pajamas with their messy hair and their unwashed faces and shoved them into your packed car to go to Denny’s?? Well, THAT’S what we would do for our too big to be little, but too little to be big Ross and a carload or two of his friends. (Well, 9 friends to be exact, as that is exactly how many seatbelts John and I have between the two of us! High school kidnapping bandits might ignore seatbelts, but as long as we are still capable of orchestrating their safety, some rules will be followed!!)So, I quickly notified parents, who agreed not to tell their boys, gathered bandanas and sunglasses as disguises, and devised a plan of attack!

On Party Day, before the sun rose, John, Sky and I yanked the covers off of Grant and told him he was part of a big surprise.  He half-opened his groggy eyes, looked around and mumbled, “I AM??? Is it a new dog??” John said, “Nope, that’s the old dog.”

We threw on our kidnapping disguises and ran to wake up Ross. He was a good sport from the moment his eyes opened, and put on shoes with his pajama pants, having no idea what or where was next. When we arrived at the first friend’s house in the pitch dark, Ross was hesitant to leave the car and said he was scared. I assumed he meant scared to wake up his friend. He said, “No, I don’t want anybody to think I’m a gang member, since I’m wearing this red bandanna on my face.” My darling little gang member, in his pajama bottoms and messy hair, with the blinking “It’s my birthday” button. So literal, so responsible, even woken out of a dead sleep and on an adventure, led by his own two parents.

As the tentative first few kidnaps got under way and the kids started picking up the momentum and adrenaline of being in on the surprise, the novelty kicked in. The back seat of my car became increasingly full and animated. The excitement hit these boys, and they dropped their guards- laughing and joking and being themselves, assuming their roles in the group, utterly adorable in their lanky, loopy, awkwardness and Peter Brady cracking voices. Some “Mother Henning” the other boys in the group to hurry up or get their seatbelts on, others tempering their bigger , louder ideas because it was early, or because they were young enough to not be full blown in their precociousness.

I was a fly on the wall, the car driving itself in their eyes, as they noticed only each other. A rare opportunity to observe the group dynamic- to hear and see and soak them in, without them really noticing I was there. To absorb their state of being like the colors of a sunset, precious and fleeting, connecting day to night, and changing before my very eyes.

We got to the restaurant- empty, except for a few early risers- and were ushered into the adjoining room. The boys all sat at one long table, with balloons and mayhem, and we adults shuffled off to sit by ourselves in the dimly lit back of the room so they could have their semi-independent fun. We instructed them to order whatever they wanted. Cokes for breakfast? Sure! The full order of chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream? Of course!! They had survived a kidnapping, they earned it!

We collapsed into our chairs, exhaustion quickly replacing the adrenaline, keenly aware of the differences in our age and energy level from the frenetic hum that buzzed around the big table. Perhaps it was how dimly lit our side of the room was, but our separation acted as a sort of license for them to forget we existed, and we observed as if watching a fascinating experiment behind one- way glass.  In shock, I wondered…. who WERE these people we just awoke from dead sleeps and loaded into our cars?! I thought I knew them, but they all appeared like caricatures of their former and future selves. Completely familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.  After all the secret planning and hiding and orchestrating, I realized- the surprise was actually on us!

They resembled an illuminated portrait of The Last Supper- fitting, in a strange way, as they transformed into adults and left their childhood selves behind. And I just couldn’t get over the history in each one of them. Like they each contained a reel tape of themselves that wound all the way back from the round, bouncy little kindergarteners where their introductions began, and paused at these gruff, scruffy, goofy man- children, all jokes and awkward limbs, cracking voices belying the babies within. You could almost fast-forward their tapes if you looked carefully- watched their underlying mannerisms, watched the way they interacted with each other, what they ordered, how they spoke to the waitress- who they might be when they finally shed the skin of their younger selves and hardened up from the experience and responsibility of adulthood.

As soon as it had begun, it was over. Returning the boys to their rightful owners was a more subdued affair- their bellies full, the sleepiness kicking back in. Each boy trailed off with polite good-byes, a twinkle in their smiles acknowledging the recognition of their shared experience. 

After dropping off the last kid, Ross mused about how it took longer to pick everyone up and take them home than to have breakfast-but how that was kind of the fun part.Then, my big/ little thirteen year old boy leaned his sleepy head against the seat. And in the same voice I have heard since he was able to speak, with the same ageless smile, he said, “Mommy……. I’m happy.” And at that moment, there wasn’t a single thing on this earth that could have made me happier.