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Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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8:26 p.m. - 2004-06-01
Alex started his new job today. He got hired at the smelly convenience store. Mini-dunk’s entire downtown consists of a general store and the smelly convenience store. The general store moniker is kind of a lie, they don’t sell plows and fabric off the bolt, just chips and beer and a homemade daily lunch special. The smelly convenience store sells chips and beer and a homemade daily lunch special, but they also sell gas. Thus they are the big dog on the block. The general store has to rely on its charm. That and they make a heck of a fried egg sandwich. It’s got hash browns on it. If that sounds gross, then you’ve never been seriously pre-menstrual. That’s all I’m saying. So why is it the smelly convenience store? Well, duh. It smells in there. Stinky. The air inside has been totally totally totally used. Despite the door being opened like 600 times a day, no new air gets in. It’s stopped dead at the threshold by the odor dense old air. And my kid works there. In that stink. ALLLLLL day. I find this amusing. I’m mean like that. I have had some real crap jobs. Why shouldn’t my kid share the joy? Besides, it’s best Alex gets a taste of what he can look forward to if he doesn’t finish getting his act together scholastically. He did pass calculus this time, btw. I put the Fear of Mom into him and he studied his ass off. However, now that he’s sliding on over towards 20, I feel my days as his combination Jiminy Cricket/Marley’s Ghost are over. Time for my boy to sink or swim on his own. I refuse to be the whip hand anymore. I will still be Wise Counsel. It’s really the only Mom job left with him. His table manners, grooming habits, and the state of his bowels are his business. Yesterday he came in for a chat. We talked about his life up on campus and during the course of our conversation I clarified a couple things for him apparently. Social ambiguities, mostly. When we were finished he thanked me and said he felt better. I was surprised. I thought we were just talking, but I guess I was advising. And listening. I have found that more than mountain bikes or game systems, the thing my kids prize most is my undivided attention. Alex has always been kind of sideways in asking for things. Wolf is far more direct and I’ve become used to his imperious way of going on. Since Alex left home I’ve gotten less sharp about seeing his ‘casual’ topics of conversation for their deeper meaning. I’ve tried for many years to get him to be more forthright. Sometimes he’s so timid and obscure it’s dumb. Infuriating, too. What have we EVER denied this child? Nothing he’s ever asked for went unanswered by us. At times we felt like we were spoiling him, but he was an only child for almost 13 years so of course he got all the attention and all the toys. Why on Earth he should be so passive and meechy is beyond me. Ticks Mike off to no end. Makes us feel like Mom and Dad Le Gree. It’s a weird thing, parenting an adult child. One of the things we talked about yesterday was how radically different his growing up years were from mine. I told him how when my sisters and I turned 14 we were expected to pay rent and take care of all our personal needs with our own money. At least for me, from then on I didn’t feel the least bit obligated to follow my parents’ rules when I was outside their house. Which was as often as I could get away with. Trust me. I was in charge of my life. My values were my own. I did what I chose and nothing my parents wanted applied to my behavior. I followed their rules as far as chores, rent, curfew and whatever else so I had a roof over my head, but I decided who I was and what I did in the largest scheme. Mike’s childhood wasn’t abusive and miserable, but he too had started working early and distancing himself from parental rule as soon as possible. Alex didn’t have to flee the house nor had he been economically responsible for himself, so to his father and I he seems a little slacker-ish and immature. I was honest. I admitted that it was a bit unfair to hold him to my youthful standard. Times are different. I also admitted that if Alex HAD indulged in a lot of the antics his father and I had gotten up to I’d have wrung his neck. Just because WE got away without mishap didn’t mean the way we carried on was correct or safe. Hypocritical? Perhaps. I prefer to see it as the Voice of Experience. It’s such a delicate balancing act. Being ‘there’ for my kid yet fostering his independence. As he seems disinclined to leave voluntarily I’m having to shove him out there a little. Knowing where and when to draw that line is tough. It’s beyond my experience. I turned 18, graduated high school and left home within 48 hours. And I didn’t come back for 2 and a half years. How the hell should I know when my grown-up son should be doing stuff for himself? It seems to me he should be doing EVERYTHING for himself and it’s hard hard HARD to know where to put the scissors on those apron strings. In a foreign land, ~LA
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