Textsations

Parenthood is challenging. That’s not very profound, is it? Lately, it seemed like a reoccurring theme in my life, especially with Nathan, but not in a bad way; it was just in a growing pains kind of way.

Lately, with Nathan, I felt like we were two ships who passed in the night. Meaningful conversations were one-line text messages, quality time spent together was driving him somewhere when he didn’t have Big Red, the ’95 Suburban, and “I love you” only prefaced requests to borrow the car.

No matter, because I really had nothing to complain about. Nathan didn’t drink, do drugs, or smoke. His only addictions, which looked a bit pricey when he asked me to view his bank account online when his funds seemed too low to him, were Magic cards and Subway.

When I missed him, I, (don’t tell him this), stalked him on Facebook. Even though I was not his friend anymore, I was friends with some of his friends, so I could look at his wall and pictures; so there, Nathan! I will not be deleted! Not surprisingly, I discovered pictures I’d never seen of Nathan from his trip to Europe.

Here's Nathan being goofy. Hmm, whenever I ask him to be goofy or do something goofy (participate in one of my movies), he looks at me like I'm crazy. Apparently, a mother’s craziness is not a 17-year-old son’s craziness and vice versa.



Though the strong introverted and silent type, it’s obvious that the chicks dig him. Nathan would adamantly deny this. I think a lot of girls at his high school would agree with me.



Wasn’t this just yesterday? I was glad to see that he didn't find the childhood version of himself embarrassing. Now, if only he didn’t find his mother embarrassing!



I’ve really only had three different types of conversations with Nathan this Summer. Well, they weren't really verbal exchanges; they were "textsations" or "convertexts." These exchanges can be categorized as “I need something; therefore, I love you,” "I have a plan. I don’t have a plan with a side of attitude,” and “I might grace you with my presence if you promise not to make a fuss.”

I Need Something; Therefore, I Love You

“So, I can officially drive people now.” *
“Congratulations!”
[Wait for it……]
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"So, what I’m thinking is that I could steal the car at 5:30 on Friday to drive me and Harry to Lowell until 11 or so."
"K."

*In the state of Massachusetts, you’re not allowed to drive anyone except for family members for the six months after you get your license.

I Have a Plan. I Don’t Have a Plan with a Side of Attitude

“What time are you going to be home?”
“I’m not.”
“Where are you going to be?”
“Smoking a reefer, man. Going to Dad’s house cuz we’re fishing tomorrow.”
“K. Where are you fishing?”
“Hell.”
“Cut the ‘tude!”
“Don’t tude me.”
Will you be home tomorrow night?
“Crane Beach.” [He finally decides to give up the answer for my previous question!]
“Honestly who knows.”
“What?!”
“I dunno. Who cares anymore?”
“I care because I would like to see you every now and then.”
“I should be home tomorrow. I bought an iPod Touch.” [He finally decides to throw his Mom a bone and share some late-breaking news about his life.]

I Might Grace You with My Presence if You Promise Not to Make a Fuss

4pm

“Can three friends come over for tonight for magic? We can be quiet.
“Sure. You can have the family room after Iz goes to bed.”
“10ish whenever I get off work.”
[He’s coming home, and he’s bringing friends, which is a first! I’ve offered continually to hide upstairs, so he can entertain. Woo-hoo, I think my probationary period due to that maternal Facebook stalking incident is over!]

6pm

“Want me to get some root beer and chips?”
“Nah, nah, don’t have to.”
“Am at store now…say so if you want something. Chicken wings?!?!”
“No. We’re fine. Stop it.”
“Too late…wings, potato chips, IBC root beer and orange soda.”
[Fuss Score - Mom: 1, Nathan: 0]

10pm

“Pillows and blankets galore in your closet if they want to stay over. Do you want me to put them in the living room?”
“They are.”
“They are what?”
“Staying.”
[Nathan is letting his friends sleep in the house he shares with his Mom. I now think I am forgiven for the telling-him-to-change-his-Facebook-picture incident! Woo-hoo again!]
“So living room?”
“Yes.”
“Just don’t eat in there!”
[Oh, no! A total Mom nag; stop when you’re ahead, Jean!”]

I put the air conditioning on downstairs, cleared out a big space for them to sleep in the living room, and placed the blankets and pillows in a neat pile. I texted Nathan, and he said, “Be home soon. Harry's slow!” He was picking up both Harry and Ben in Big Red, totally exercising his right to party by driving non-family members.

When Monty started barking, I knew they had arrived; okay, I can’t say his barking doesn’t come in handy as an inexpensive security system. I tried not to be excited in that June Cleaver sort of way, but I failed miserably and greeted Nathan and his friends at the door. I said, “Everything’s in the living room,” and then Ben, who glanced into the living room, said, “Thank you for the blankets and pillows,” that was somewhat reminiscent of Eddie Haskell.

If I didn’t know any better, I was in an episode of “Leave it to Beaver;” however, I knew that Ben was a very nice and a genuine kid. All of Nathan’s friends seemed to be that way. Well, the friends Nathan allowed me to meet seemed that way!

I then went to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, and when I came back, Nathan was showing Liam to his friends. Men who adore cats are special; I’m convinced of this. I gave Nathan the snack update, and as I did, he said, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.”

I got the hint. I could translate 17-year-old speak. I was being asked to leave quickly, and I said, “I’m going upstairs now. Good night.”

When I woke up this morning, I passed the living room; I saw two additions to the usual solitary sleeping lump I'm used to seeing under the comforter in Nathan's room. I walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee and noticed the empty potato chip bag on the counter. I peeked in the refrigerator and saw that seven sodas were consumed and one lonely chicken wing remained in the Styrofoam container; it’s a good thing I fussed. [Fuss Score - Mom: 2, Nathan: 0]

Life’s all about phases. I’m not complaining about Nathan; he talks to me, even if it’s in textsations, and he always tells me where he’s going. I’m lucky to have such a good son; heck, some days I think he’s got it more together than I do.

The moon goes through phases, kids go through phases, and I’m 48, and I know I'm still going through phases. Anyway, it seemed that the parent-child relationship went through its phases, too. Nathan seemed to have deemed this Summer the “I'm Okay; You're Sort of Okay” phase, and I was fine with that as long as he always kept texting to me, loving his cats, and telling me he loved me even if it was only for motor vehicle gain. ♥