The STAB! of guilt I felt at that comment was immediate and sharp.
I used to be the QUEEN, as in, no-one could touch me, of love notes. Creative love notes, tucked daily and with much affection, into the cold lunch, were a specialty of mine. Oh yeah, baby. I can't cook. I can't sew. I cannot and do not care to figure out the strategy of all the sports I have watched my boy tear up the field, mat and track in, but love notes? Sheeot. That I got *covered*.
There are several reasons for this: he is only 30 minutes away; he plays football, so we see him after games; cell phones allow constant communication, in a way land lines never could; the internet, with email and Facebook and Skype allows photos, updates and schedules to be shared almost in real time.
So, after we hugged our boy; ::ahem:: our *conference championship* boy, I asked him, "Do you ever feel bad beacause I've never sent you any letters at college? I just heard that mom ask her son if he got his Halloween card, so then I wondered if you feel bad when other kids get mail and you don't?".
His incredulous face, coupled with his verbal response, told the story better than my words alone will, but I shall try to do the situation justice.
Picture the incredulous face of a jusst past adolescent male, suited up in his grid iron glory, dirty and sweaty, towering above me---got it?
His response, "Geez, Mom. I'm not in kindergarten".
Which just goes to prove, all you SuperMomsWhoSendHalloweenCardsToYour
CollegeAgeSons out there...
sometimes, it pays to be a SlackerMom.