Leaving the nest

We dropped off our youngest at the airport this morning. He's on his way to Europe for 2 whole weeks. (lucky kid!)

He was so excited, he was vibrating. He could barely contain himself.

I'm wavering between nervous mama worries and hard-won calm that he'll be fine. I keep reminding myself that he's traveling with his 8th grade class, with almost as many adults as kids (many parents we've known for years) and it's organized by a tour company with an excellent reputation.

But.

He's never been more than a few hours away from home, for more than a few days, without a parent along.

"I'll be FINE, mom!" says he, with more than a little exasperation.

He was so ready to go on his own. In fact, when we initially contemplated finding a way to afford to go as a family, he was firmly insistent that he did not want any of us along. He did not want to be under parental wings.

I can understand, really, I can. But that doesn't mean it isn't hard to let go.

He better bring me a souvenir!

After all, I could have given him a smoochie in public, in front of his friends and everyone (I did threaten, jokingly, to do so). Instead I settled for a hug and mumbled-under-my- breath, "I love you."