Dear Jack,

by | Aug 15, 2018 | Being Italian, Blog, Kids!, Stories | 2 comments

I clearly remember the morning I went into labor with Amelia. I got up, took a shower shaved my legs, and changed my voice mail telling the world that I was going to be a mom. Dad and I were in the garage and just before we got in the car to go to the hospital, I turned to him and said, “Chip, this is the last time we will be alone as a couple for a long time.”

A few years later you came along and now the time has come when dad and I are alone once again. The University of Alabama is calling your name. Roll Tide.

When you were born, you were easy and kind, even as an infant. Your eyes searched mine until that recognition turned on the light and I have felt that light from your eyes ever since. But… now it is time for some Italian mother guilt, ok Jack?

  • I slept on the floor in your room for weeks when you were a baby because I was so afraid you would stop breathing.
  • My best friend was your teacher when you went to nursery school and I about threatened her with bodily harm if anything happened to you on her watch. It never did!
  • I have made, arguably, 750 batches of pancakes and bacon, 300 grilled cheese sandwiches and slipped you more money than the cost for a new Audi R8 to keep you fed with pizza, Chipotle and Subway. That stomach is never full, and the University of Alabama meal plan is going to lose money on you!
  • Rain? Snow? No problem. I have watched 4 years of LAX and 5 years of rowing. I have the best rain gear there is!
  • You have given me 1000’s of hugs and kisses and I have stored them in my memory, so I can make it until you come home from Alabama.

I love you Jack plain and simple.

I will miss yelling JACK!!! every morning. I won’t know what to do without checking the Power School app and texting you to go to homeroom…NOW.

You bring life into the house and usually along with that comes about 13-20 pair of shoes in the mudroom, Germans in my kitchen laughing and a few more gray hairs on my head.

The car is packed, and your friends are arriving for a night of reminiscing and hugs. The doorbell is ringing, the pizza is ordered and the party is in full swing. Right now my ‘nest’ is very full and so is my heart. (I will miss all your friends too.)

I have 48 hours with you in the car until I deliver you to school and your life truly begins. We are here Jack and I can be in Alabama in a few short hours. But hmm, maybe I should just get an apartment close to campus. Thoughts?

xoxoxoxoxox

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2 Comments

  1. Steph

    I will share that apartment with you! As always a great funny post – although it is my firstborn going to Alabama 1073 miles away. My youngest is a HS son – I bet your grocery bill will be 75% less

    Reply
    • Karen

      Thanks for the note! Roll Tide!

      Reply

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About Me

KarenHello and welcome.
I am often asked, “What is Pasta on the Floor?”
Pasta on the Floor is different for everyone. It is a recipe that tells a story and inspires them to try something new. For others, stories of family, joy, loss, and hope engage with them. This brings me a great deal of happiness. I do not take myself too seriously, so be forewarned the subject matter is open and truthful. In many ways, Pasta is a tale of life, and I think you will find familiarity and commonality as you scroll through these pages.

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