- Main Entry: am·biv·a·lence
- Pronunciation: \am-ˈbi-və-lən(t)s\
- Function: noun
- Etymology: International Scientific Vocabulary
- Date: 1918
1 : simultaneous and contradictory attitudes or feelings (as attraction and repulsion) toward an object, person, or action 2 a : continual fluctuation (as between one thing and its opposite) b : uncertainty as to which approach to follow
— am·biv·a·lent \-lənt\ adjective
— am·biv·a·lent·ly adverb
SO...I had no real use for that word for most of my life as I never really knew what it meant until my brother was going through his second divorce and kept telling me that "the counselor" told him his soon to be ex was ambivalent. If I had to be married to him I certainly wouldn't fluctuate about leaving. My ass would have flown THROUGH the door just to get out faster. This post isn't about my brother either, so just ignore that last thought too.
The post is about my children. Oy Vay! (Am I allowed to say that if I am not Jewish?). The older two are going to be sharing a house at college this year (with three additional guys so you can only imagine what the place will look AND smell like in short order. Lets just say, I will help them move in, then I won't be back. We can meet for meals somewhere or they can come home, but I am not about to undergo a series of immunizations to step foot in the place.
So, this is where the ambivalence comes in. I am going to miss them like crazy AND I can't wait for them to get the hell out of the house.
Things I will miss:
Humor--they crack me up ALL THE TIME.
S1 (the freakishly brilliant one) gets me going on these tangents where he starts quoting things I should know, and dont. He is a political junkie and is more informed than most senators and congressmen (not joking here...he could converse them to their deaths) and he has a wry sense of humor that many people don't "get". They look at him, unsure of how to respond and before they figure it out, he is on to the next subject.
S2 (the easygoing, laid back, I'll get around to it, kid). This ones grades didn't rise above a 2.3 but everyone loves him. He walks into a room, smiles and all is good. He makes me laugh so hard sometimes that I cry. His imitations are DEAD ON and he will stay in character for so long I start to get pissed because I don't know who I am talking to, him or the character.
Things I will NOT miss:
Not having clean dishes in the cupboard because they use 4387 dishes and glasses per day.
Taking my last COLD lipton white tea from the fridge, late at night, I wake up I curse them under my breath.
The late hours. They just plain suck. The boys aren't the ones that wake me up. They are very quiet when they come in....it is the DOGS. They hear the car pull in and start thumping their tails , which are typically somewhere near my head when I am sleeping (do all dogs sleep facing away of just my strange mutts?) and the thumping wakes me up....then hot flashes KEEP me up.
Leaving the garage doors open all night. I have asked, pleaded, threatened and they still can't seem to hit that little teeny button by the door. They don't even have to physically close the door, just push a little button so our garage ceases to be the place where all raccoons, stray cats, chipmunks and bunnies live. (I have found all of the above-though not on the same morning-in my garage.
Lastly....them using my car. S1's car died so we worked that out but S2 had to sell his piece of shi...um, car to an unsuspectin....nice guy, so he would have enough money for his rent. I thought he was a little too OK with selling it, until I realized he assumed we would be sharing MY car. See, I said MY car, not OUR car. It isn't even the fact that I don't want him to use it...if he used it as a car-- instead of a locker-room-- I wouldn't care as much. Yesterday I went to the store and when the cute bagger boy went to put the groceries "in the back" he said, "where should I put them?" The entire back was loaded with clothes, a football, shoes-multiple pairs, a case of water he bought and never brought into the house, 3 folding chairs caked with dried mud and two wet towels.
So, as you can see from the disparity of the number of things I will miss vs the number of things I won't miss...it is time for them to leave.
They move Saturday. Sunday I am cleaning my house, boxing up whatever they leave, sticking it away for them to take to their house someday and reclaiming my home. Yeah, yeah, I know it is still their home too but until they start coughing up the dough for the payments, utilities, taxes, food, etc...they are only allowed visitation.
I reserve the right to whine and complain about missing them in subsequent posts....seeeeee...ambivalence--this post did have a point.