Time is of the Essence

I was sitting at my desk at 8am this morning booting my laptop. As always, my IM opened and told me who was on. Ironically, my first day of work, I found out that my company never deleted my account, so when I opened my email and IM, both application populated with emails and contacts from long ago.

One of my IM contacts happened to be Nathan. When I was working, I used IM to contact co-workers. Nathan only used it when I was working at home, while he was only 5 feet away from me in his bedroom, to ask me what was for dinner.

I saw his light was green; however, I knew that Nathan could not possibly be up. The computer in his room at Quinn’s was on, and being 17, he was always logged into IM. Not wanting to delve right into work and seeing that his light was green, I wrote “49lkdfjsdkj fiddkfsjlkmklr94lkmvd” whatever that meant.

As expected, I didn’t get any response from Nathan. Nathan was leaving today for his trip, and I knew that, as his Mom, I needed to maintain communication with him until the last possible minute. I knew he was still fast asleep despite IM telling me that he wasn't, so I delved into a challenged outsourced user guide I was rewriting; it was so off the mark that it referred to “career” instead of “carrier.”

At 9:30, my IM blinked. It was Nathan. He said, “Huuuuuh?”

I asked him if he was all set for his trip; he said he was. I told him that I’d miss him and that I loved him. He responded, most empathetically, that he needed to go make a bagel with cream cheese.

At 11:30, my IM blinked again. Nathan said he was off. I wrote, “Good bye. Be safe. I love you,” and as I hit Enter I saw that his light had already gone dim.

I picked up my cell phone and called him. He answered and I asked, “Are you off then?” He said, “In a few minutes.”

I repeated my IM message to him over the phone, added “Don’t forget your Mom,” and began to get choked up. He seemed distracted, which I could totally understand. Then he said, “Yeah, you, too,” as he was walking out the front door of Quinn’s house.

I was in my office and tried not to cry in front of the straight-laced auditor, who moved into the cube across from me last week. While Nathan had traveled before, it had always been with me or with Quinn. This was his maiden voyage across the Atlantic on his own.

Not expecting to hear from Nathan until he needed more money while in Europe or a ride home from somebody’s house on the day he arrived home, I received a text message at 4:47 this afternoon. It simply said, “Am I allowed to drink alcoholic beverages in Europe?”

I remembered Nathan telling me a few weeks ago that the drinking age in the Czech Republic, Hungary, and Poland was 16. I was surprised that he made that point to me. Two months earlier, he had told me that he really didn’t like the taste of beer or wine; I thought, “Good! I wish you had inherited that from me!”

I responded, “Err, what did your Dad say? Do I need to give some sort of approval?”
Then, I quickly said, “I thought you didn’t like wine or beer?!?!”
And, before Nathan could get a text in edge-wise, I wrote, “I wish we had discussed this with your Dad before you were about to get on the plane!”

Of course, I sat there and said to myself, “Duh, Jean.” Nathan responded with the answer that reinforced my previous “Duh.” He said, “My Dad probably says Ok. Hurry. Time is of the essence. Just say yes or no.”

I know I mentioned previously that I was the good cop parent; Quinn was the bad cop parent. Nathan probably knew he needed to answer this question long before it was 5 minutes until departure. I was once again painted into a parental corner.

I tried to call Quinn. He didn’t answer his cell phone. I had to punt and said, “Yes, but only one beer each night. Please don’t abuse it.” Yes, when I reread that, I laughed also!

Then I decided to use a lifeline. I asked Nathan, “What did other parents say?” Nathan responded, “Everyone is a yes. Mom, you’re overreacting!”

I thought, “Aha, he’s lying and playing the Mother Doubt Thyself card!” I asked, “What time is your plane leaving?” He said, “Fifteen minutes.”

I had to make a firm decision on my own. I hated doing that. When it came to these kinds of things, I so missed having someone to make a decision with.

I said, “Wow! I am going to miss you so much. Okay, yes to having a beer. Be careful…people will take advantage of drunk teens! I love you!!!!” Nathan said, “Bye!!!! I’ll call you tonight hopefully on Skype.” I wasn’t going to hold my breath, because I knew that he’d be over the Atlantic Ocean most of the night.

I reached Quinn after the fact and told him what I told Nathan. He said, “Oh, sure. Let him puke his brains out if he wants, but I doubt he will.” He told me that for the last year, Nathan was offered a beer on most holidays yet he always declined. I told Quinn that I didn’t think the permission was about drinking for Nathan; it was only about being able to do what everyone else was doing if he wanted to.

Quinn said, “Gee, I noticed he didn’t call me about this.” Quinn had never gotten the memo about me being the good cop parent obviously. I said, “Hello, Quinn?! I will always know about anything that is everything before you will.”

And, in the talk about timing department, when I got home from work tonight, I saw an envelope from Nathan’s high school. It was his report card, and upon opening it, I saw that once again he had wonderful grades in the subjects he loved (Biology and History) and marginal grade in the subjects he could care less about like English. (He didn’t get that from me!)

I thought, “Jeez, not only had he timed that drinking-in-Europe question right, but he had conveniently escaped the country the day his report card arrived.” How did he do it? I wished I had his finesse when I was 17!

Anyway, Nathan is safely on the plane now. He’s probably dreaming about the possibility of drinking beer legally and not about his C in English. Sleep tight, Nathan, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean. ♥