Growing Pains

Nathan, my 17-year-old son, was supposed to be “with” me this weekend. His Dad and I are divorced, and we have been for many years. Anyway, he was supposed to be with me last weekend originally; however, he decided to go salmon fishing with his Dad instead.

While I really wanted to see him last weekend, I understood how fishing, especially a trip that just involved him and his Dad and not his two much-younger half-brothers, would be a priority over time spent with me. I got that; I think the fact that I got that made me a good but still imperfect Mom.

Anyway, earlier in the week, I had asked Nathan about this weekend. I expected him to say, “I’ll see you Friday night.” Instead, he answered, “I have a LAN party at my Dad’s on Friday night, and I have D&D at Higglesworth’s on Saturday.”

Apparently, I can’t be the host for LAN parties. My Internet stinks, because the town I live in doesn’t have FIOS. Thanks, Verizon; and can we work on that so I see my son some more?!

I asked, “So, am I going to see you at all this weekend?” He said, “Well, I’ll be there on Saturday some time, and I’ll be there on Sunday at some time.” I wanted to scream and whine, but instead I said, “Okay.” I had realized a few months ago that a license and a car trumped Mom.

This morning, I texted Nathan and asked if he might like to see “Social Network” with me today. Given that Nathan had deleted me as a Facebook friend, it would be a bit of movie-going irony. He texted me back and said, “I have homework to get done before Higglesworth’s, and I gotta finish my D&D stuff. I’ll pass. Sorry.”

I tried. I frowned. And, I didn’t conquer.

I texted back, “That’s okay. No problem.” I was a good mother. I was letting my son go slowly to do the things he needed to do without me.

Later, Nathan texted me to tell me that he’d be late arriving to my house. His Dad had asked him for some help cutting down some trees. I sighed, and I let him go some more.

Meanwhile, I did errands, visited a Lovely friend, and did some grocery shopping. When at the grocery store, I texted Nathan to ask him if he might like some sushi. He texted back, “Yeah, salmon.”

I asked the sushi chef to make a salmon-only tray. As I waited, I texted Nate to ask if he wanted me to pick up treats for his D&D night at Higglesworth’s house. He said, “No!”

Did I listen? No, I got two six-packs of root beer, a bag of Cape Cod potato chips (Nathan’s favorite), and a bag of Smartfood popcorn. I thought I could somehow sneak it into his car, diabolic Mom that I am; and I had to laugh how Nathan made me feel diabolic for offering to supply him and his friends with junk food!

I asked if he wanted me to drop his sushi off at his Dad’s. He declined and said he’d be home soon. When he finally arrived home at 3:30pm, he grabbed his sushi and plunked down on the couch with his homework, his D&D books, and his trusty cat, Thunderbolt.

I asked him if he’d like to take my car to Higglesworth’s house tonight. It was half the size of Big Red, and I knew he liked driving it more than Big Red. He said, “Yeah!”

So, I diabolically left the root beer, chips, and popcorn on the passenger side front seat of my car. I knew he didn’t want me to make a fuss; but I knew I wanted to. And, if you can’t be with the one you love, send love with the one you can’t be with.

Before he left, we discussed the merits of Big Red. Nathan said, “That’s my car; it’s common law now.” I laughed and said, “Well, the nice thing is that you can sleep ten people in that thing.”

He said, “I slept in it during Relay for Life.” I asked, “Really?” He said, “Yeah, and it’s really good for sleeping just two people, too.”

He then did this Groucho Marx face with his eyebrows going North and South repeatedly. He smiled wickedly; I smiled back. Then, I said, “Ewwwww,” and we both laughed.

At 5:40pm, he drove off in my car. Within two minutes of leaving, he called. I thought he was going to again chastise me for buying food and drink for his friends without his approval.

Instead he said, “Mom, there’s the cutest little black Corgi walking down the block now.” I asked, “Is the man walking him older and does he have a beard?” Nathan said he did, and I told Nathan that I had met him and his dog, a Corgi cross, several months ago.

Nathan said, “Well, I just wanted to let you know; the dog’s really cute.” I said, “I bet he doesn’t bark as much as Monty does!” We said good-bye, and after I hung up, I smiled. No matter where I was and where Nathan was, I’d always love the man who called me just to share the news of a cute little Corgi walking down the street. ♥