Flankers…

I’ve never been all that comfortable with flying.

Or bugs.

Hornets freak me out, passing a log truck gives me the willies, and I hate being stuck somewhere and not being able to pee. I have issues with hockey hits, ski falls, anything that requires the use of a helmet, propane, maggots, cats…or more specifically their claws…swimming around large ocean creatures, jelly fish, being judged, elevators and water slides.

And I’m really not a big fan of flankers.

Flankers.

The Newfoundland word for the hunks of glowing red-hot wood that suddenly burst into the air while you’re trying to roast your marshmallow around the campfire…spinning and dancing just above your head as they threaten to burn your exposed skin…keeping you on the edge of your seat until they finally land.

Spiderman left for Vancouver and while he’s super pumped and will enjoy one adventure after the next with my brother and sister in-law…I completely and irrationally worry.

The crap in my head is enough to make you dizzy as one idea after the next forms in the most ridiculous scenarios you can imagine.

For me, worry is the opposite of joy and pride.

From the moment they were born it began. As I checked repeatedly to see that they were breathing, as I questioned every sneeze and cough, as I wondered whether or not they were reaching their milestones…fearing whether or not I was a good mom.

I stressed over clipping fingernails, diaper rash and spit up milk. I worried about their floppy necks, that dreaded soft spot and the freaky umbilical cord.

Oh come on…the umbilical cord is pretty freaky and as they grow…it gets a little bit freakier trying to cut the cord while keeping them close. Trying to prepare them…while letting them soar. Watching them dance and spin just slightly above you…leaving you totally vulnerable and completely exposed.

A night of texting to stay in contact with each step of his journey. A simple “found the gate” and “on the plane” kept my mind at ease and to a lesser degree…his as well. I’ve heard the comments of “he’ll have a blast” and “mine have flown on their own since they were five months old”…I’ve heard tons of “he’ll be oks” and one “you’ll be fine.”

I’ll be fine.

A night of little sleep, a multitude of texts and two phone calls.

The final message at 5:03 telling me he’d safely arrived in Vancouver and was excited about the days ahead…he’d slept through the flight, was happy to see his uncle and all of his luggage arrived.

It was all I needed to put my mind at ease so I could finally shut down the worry and close my eyes.

The flanker has landed.

– – – – – – – –

While this post may have been written a few years ago when my son travelled to Vancouver…I still worry about a ton of things. But most especially…my children taking flight…

Grab a Newfoundland tartan blanket and curl up by the firepit for a sing-song (but watch out for those flankers!)