The big birthday came and went and along with it, my motivation to write up the final two list items. There's something about not having a looming deadline that invites procrastination. But no more! I said 40 by Forty and I meant...well, 40 by Forty(ish), I suppose.
Eleven days before my birthday, my firstborn turned thirteen. I still can't quite wrap my head around the fact that I have a teenager. That the perfectly round-headed smiley love who made me a mama is inches from passing me up and shops in the men's section.
13. Unbelievably wonderful with a hint of heartbreak mixed in.
My parents marked the 13th birthday of each of their three girls with a ride in a limo. This was the early 90's in a small town, so it was very exciting and extravagant. Among other things, my friends and I used our time to go through the Taco Bell drive-thru. I'm sure our chauffeur was thrilled.
Several years ago I decided I wanted to take each of my kids on a one-on-one trip to mark their 13th birthdays. Washington DC seemed like a good choice for Cash's given his growing interest in history. I planned to keep our destination a secret from him, hoping instead that we'd show up at the airport the day of our flight and he'd find out at the check-in kiosk.
We were doing pretty good on the covert operation. Even Ava, who had inadvertently discovered the location after noticing the large amount of DC-related screenshots on my phone, kept quiet. Then, two weeks before we were set to go, Cash approached me in the kitchen.
"Hey mom, we better not be going to Washington DC since that's where the 8th grade trip is."
I kept a straight face but my stomach dropped through the floor. Well shit.
What is this 8th grade trip he was talking about? Why am I just now hearing about it? Is it even happening with the pandemic? And why is this kid just assuming his dad and I would send him alone across the country anyway? Should I try to come up with an alternative?
Ultimately, forging ahead seemed the best option, but I decided against the big reveal at the airport. The potential for a mixed reaction would be a risky start to the trip. When I told Cash the destination, he promptly consulted Google and excitedly provided me with a list of his must-sees. Whew.
DC was everything I hoped for, in terms of travel but more importantly, in terms of connection with my kid. As a single working parent, my time always feels limited and divided. On particularly burnt out nights I'll sit in his room while he plays video games, a task that demands the exact amount of energy I have left (zero), but at least puts me near him. He'll explain in great detail the new upgrades or achievements he's working on and I'll wonder if he'll look back and think it was lame or cool of me.
But on our trip, we talked. Not just about video games, but also about ideas and opinions his mind is developing. About his greater interest in world history over American history. About the Smithsonian holding less of his attention than the Spy Museum (which was his favorite by far). About the hundreds of thousands of tiny white flags set up around the Washington Memorial in memory of each American who died of COVID.
We walked for miles and then rode bikes when our feet felt like falling off. We had Starbucks for every breakfast. We returned to the hotel to watch the Office when he needed a rest. We read our books together at dinner. We saw every memorial within walking/biking distance of our hotel. We went on a dinner cruise. We made a list of movies that we should watch back home, like National Treasure and Midway.
It was raining as we drove to the airport to fly home. Cash was content to tuck into his phone for the ride, but I made him put it away. Look around. It's still all new to us. He was quiet for a bit, watching as we sped past the vibrant greenery heavy with saturation. "I love the rain," he said.
Me too. And I'm just so glad he told me.
