We parents always want our kids to have a different childhood than we did.
Does it ever work out that way for anyone?
I was thinking about this today when my 14 year old son was being dropped off for a Super bowl party where his parents would not be in attendance. Yes, there was a responsible parent burning hamburgers and overseeing 8 young high school men about to drink 48 soft drinks and eat 24 bags of chips, but some of them are seniors.
You know, senior boys.
Boys with cars and drivers licenses.
Those kind of seniors.
Hear that? It’s the sound of my right eye still twitching.
It hasn’t stopped since 2:00 this afternoon.
But ohhhhhhh, I had to be the mom who wanted a different high school experience for her son, rather than the miserable one she had. Be careful what you wish for parents.
And yes, you will become your mother.
So today boredom forced my son out of the house (OK it was really me). He wandered down to the high school with his football in tow and ended up running into some of the high school football team.
They actually played outside in the sun. (gasp)
When they couldn’t bear being away from a video game controller for a second longer, they invited Brian over for a Super bowl party.
“Can I come too?”
(Picture big rolling eyes at this moment).
So there I am, left to drop him off with a cell phone, an iTouch with a GPS system, his wallet with information on how to find his parents. This party has cases of coke, root-beer and a table full of chip bags. I fear he might never come home.
Milk and orange juice can sometimes be cool too you know.
OK fine – he doesn’t think so either.
I manage to call only once at half time to see if he is hungry and wants to come home for dinner.
Big shock there.
I call my ex.
“Leave him alone, he’s fine.”
Now I know why I divorced that man. He’s too rational.
My mother comes for Super bowl dinner, and I tell her Brian is at his first party of his high school life. She looks at me like I just told her tomorrow is Monday.
I manage to be entertaining, but what took those damn Saints so long to win and end the game?
Didn’t they know I had a teenage son to force into coming home?
2 seconds after the Saints make their final touchdown . . .
I call my ex-husband.
“Are you getting him now?”
“I’m in front of the house as we speak.”
“Call me when he is in the car.”
“We are only 5 minutes away. By the time you answer he will be home.”
He really tests my patience with his reason.
In less than the time it takes to say, “Dinner is ready!” Brian is bounding through the door.
“Hi mom! That was great! The Saints won!”
“I know! You had fun?”
“Yeah, but I’m starving. Did you make dinner?”
Relief floods over my body.
“Mom? I think I want to go over there again next weekend.”
Now, if I could just get this eye to stop twitching . . .
Until next time –
This content is published under the Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.