When your kids are 18 years, 5 months and 1 day apart

Remember coming home as a freshman from college for Thanksgiving break? It's the first major break and if you've traveled any distance to college, you know it's likely the first trip you've even made home since escaping to, er, leaving for college. I remember I had this soft, very fuzzy blue sweater and fitted black pants that I loved to wear about that time. I remember my roommate, Carlene, and her awesome family visiting that first semester I'm pretty sure they brought food. I remember gaining 25 pounds. I remember going home and feeling "different" and wondering if it was palpable, or in my head. Did I even smell different?

So the teenager came home from Iowa City on Tuesday. He's still here. I confess I was nervous. He's a good kid, but high school was a bumpy ride. Would he just want to be out all hours and defiant about house rules? Would he have an attitude?

He's been great. And super helpful with the little toddler man and Baby C. Because her biggest brother has been gone much of her eight months on this planet, Baby C had no clue who this grinning 19-year-old was at first. Those first couple of days, she stared at him a lot, and then her face would crumple and she would cry and reach out for daddy or me. Poor kid, stranger anxiety is serious business. Now she is flirty and giggles as she looks to see if he's looking at her.

So I have had a secret fear. And I had it when the teenager was living here before high school graduation last spring. When I'm out in public with him and one or both of the little ones, sans my husband, I always wonder if people are drawing conclusions that 1. I am the grandmother and he is the baby daddy or 2. that I am a pervy cougar and he and I are, um, together. I'm 43 and he's 19. Ick.

So, getting back to this Thanksgiving break: we went to Old Navy on Thanksgiving. I never, ever shop on Thanksgiving and felt kind of dirty about it, but man, they had a good denim sale. I took the teenager and the baby. While I was grabbing some jeans to try on, big brother was entertaining Baby C. A woman who worked with the teenager awhile back saw him and said hello, and asked if that was his baby. (!) OK, I can see why she might ask.

But, then, the teenager and I took the little toddler man yesterday to one of those chain places to get his hair cut. Toddler man was NOT happy and as he sat in the salon seat sobbing, the teenager and I went to work trying to distract and soothe him. At one point, the stylist said "OK, daddy, why don't you move over here?" The teenager and I just looked at each other. And I'm thinking, does she think I'm the grandma? I of course corrected her immediately and gave her more information than she probably needed about the ages of my kids and that I just had a baby in March, etc. etc. But man, I could not let that stand.

After all, this blog is not called Run Like A Grandmama.