he seems unscathed. They had a great time. I admit to a little jealousy, and a little sadness that I'll have to share him with more and more frequency. I think that it's OK to admit that... because it means that if I'm aware of it, I can make sure not to allow what I feel to interfere. Not to act on my jealousy and sadness.
There's a different bond between mothers and sons, I think, than mothers and daughters. Particularly when there is only mother and son. A daughter knows she has the potential to be her mother's equal and from the moment she realizes that it's a power struggle. But there isn't that competition--that power struggle--with mother and son. And so it's very easy for a mother to accept her son as her only companion. I know I'm not the first to feel this way; I know I'm not the only one. There are stories and legends and Greek tragedies. But it's an interesting thing to be confronted with.
So, there is that jealousy and sadness... but also the triumph in knowing that I am his mother, and he'll always come back; that his father can't break that.
JFK was BUZZING with activity last night. I think that because of the hurricane in the Caribbean, Jet Blue had canceled several flights--something like six, I think--and several others were delayed. Connections were missed. I think the power of 200 women (my online moms group plus assorted friends and family) collectively thinking positively allowed The Sun's plane to take off and land without delays and without incident. The flight before his, scheduled to leave CA much earlier in the day, touched down only moments before the Sun's. The terminal was packed. People were angry and threatening, or sleeping on their luggage. The staff was overworked. Printers weren't working. One crazed woman, her ear seemingly permanently glued to her PDA, her other hand dragging her tired, Chinese-adopted daughter, walked up and down the line of people waiting, asking them to join her in a class action suit. She asked me "Do you want to join us?" and looked annoyed when I said "I'm not here for that; I have problems of my own."
The Jamaican counter woman took off her badge so as not to reveal her name, and told ShoeFly and I how she was going to kick some old lady's fucking ass, because the woman had told her "I pay your salary. Do your job." But she took the time to issue me a gate pass when I told her why I was there--to meet my child with his father who may or may not attempt stupidity.
They wouldn't allow ShoeFly to the gate with me, so she went to the baggage claim area, and I went through security. The officer told me "be careful in there, seriously. There's some shit going down." I got up to the Jet Blue gates and began to panic. It was MOBBED. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to get the Sun without running up on them (thereby making TF feel threatened) because they literally wouldn't be able to see me otherwise. And then it turned out that due to all the cancellations and delays, the Sun's plane landed on the other side of the terminal. So I decided it was safer to go down to baggage claim, but I first needed to figure out from which direction the Sun would be coming. In the meantime, the Prof--who had been monitoring the progress of the plane via Jet Blue's refreshed-every-two-minutes-for-your-convenience plane-tracker (WAY FUCKING COOL!) was texting me every two minutes: "He's over PA. Holy shit it moves fast. He's over NY. HE'S OVER BROOKLYN!!!" It was enough to panic a bitch.
I called the Sun, and finally got through the second he must have turned his phone on. They had to sit on the runway a bit, then had to take a shuttle over to the gate. ShoeFly went and stood by the revolving door they'd be coming through, and I stood by the baggage carousel. It worked perfectly, because it completely neutralized TF. And she, in her amazingly authoritative way was able to tell him something that the lawyers and judges and law guardians have not much success in telling him; act civilized, and you will get more time like this. She told him that my wanting to be at the gate had nothing to do with him or confronting him, and everything to do with the fact that this was the first time a boy and his mother had EVER been separated for any length of time, and that his mother truly missed him. And somehow... he understood. At least, at that moment.
And I was so busy hugging and kissing my child that I didn't dwell on the fact that his hair is one giant dreadlock. This morning I woke up with heart palpitations, thinking "there's no way in hell I'm going to get that out. It will have to be cut." I haven't touched it yet..... everyone assures me that all day conditioners will do the trick, but I have to tell you that as of this moment, I'm not hopeful. It would have to be felt to be believed. And his idiot-assed apparently father sent him to wash his OWN hair the morning they left. Personally, I think he set about to sabotage The Hair, but whatever. I'll do what I can.
And TF is already back in CA. For the moment, my Sun belongs to me. My house is a wreck--I accomplished nothing this week, but it's all good. My Sun is home.