Out with the old

 

Well, after a mad few weeks the biggest boy is installed at university and the other two are back at school and I am breathing deep, cleansing, uninterrupted breaths. The eldest has managed some laundry and all seems well so far. The littlest boy is missing him, having handily forgotten all the torture and scuffles before he went away.

No opportunity was wasted to increase my anxiety about the whole thing. Conversations went like this:

Me: Which bathrobe do you want to take?

Biggest boy: The thin one.

Me: The thin one??? You'll be freezing. You need the thick one.

Biggest boy: I'll be getting dressed straight away in the mornings, the thin one will be fine.

Middle boy: He'll be sleeping in his clothes. In the street.

I looked into insurance before he went. Some insurance companies were offering cover for theft of shopping on the way home, as if he might be attacked and his groceries stolen after leaving the supermarket, as in some sort of dystopian nightmare.

We had a few minor disagreements over what he actually needed to have. He felt that £100 jeans and £170 speaker were basic necessities. I spent about three weeks going, 'You're a STUDENT'. He has £28 jeans and a £30 speaker which I am counting as a victory.

His group in the student halls had the opportunity to chat online before they met, so in theory they could have arranged kitchen equipment so that they didn't end up with twenty saucepans. Instead, they created a playlist and organised some cool lighting. I did see someone with a bread machine going past when I arrived though, which felt promising.

The university has literally dozens of exciting things going on, I was quite green with envy. Hedgehog preservations groups and gardening and exploring the countryside and trips here there and everywhere. It sounds brilliant, although of course he will probably mostly be going to the bar and not growing his own food. It would all be just right for me though. Except the shared kitchen. He said it is 'not quite as bad as I thought it might be, but you would still be horrified.' I think I am probably more robust than he gives me credit for, it's just that I am overly dramatic when someone makes a kitchen mess at home. I channel Monica from Friends a lot of the time, just to keep people in line as much as possible. 

I decluttered his room on Saturday and the littlest boy and I went plant shopping, then on Saturday evening he moved in, as it's much bigger than his room and has a view of fields and cows. Although his own room has a big tree outside right outside his window with resident pigeons which he is rather attached to. I did deep cleaning and it is all dust-free and sparkling. The littlest boy is on his best behaviour and temporarily committed to keeping it all lovely in there. 

And that feels like all the news I have for now. How is everything at your end?