Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts

Friday, February 26, 2010

I Love My Son

I love my son.

I love my son.

Really. I do love my son.

Some days, it's the sole reason I let him live.

Adam David, or "the boy" as we fondly refer to him, was born fifteen and half years ago. He was very much wanted and a welcomed ray of sunshine during what was then a rather dark time of my life.

My! How things change!

Don't get me wrong. As I clearly stated, I love my son tremendously. It's just that he seems to like nothing more than to find my last nerve and jump on it. If it's not one thing, it's another. Every day's a new day and another "adventure".

Maybe I'm just not as "adventurous" as I use to be. Maybe I'm just getting weary in my old age and not as tolerant as I once was.

Or maybe I'm right when I say the boy goes out of his way to try to push me over the edge.

Adam has a new girlfriend. That right there is enough cause for alarm, in my opinion. I've never met the girl, but he says she's really nice. She use to go to his school. She's blond ... and oh! Her name is "Becky". (That's somehow meant to make me feel better)

She's also older than him and has a car.

(Breathe Mama! Breathe!)

Last night the boy announced his weekend plans to me. Yes, I said he "announced" (not "asked") He said Becky would be driving him home from school today, where they would hang out and watch a movie together. Then, tomorrow they were planning to go to a concert in a town a good thirty miles from here, after which he would spend the night with his friend, Zach. (Not the "Zach" who lives near us, this is another "Zach" whom I've never actually met.)

Uh-huh.

I ran to the mirror to see if someone had scrawled "STUPID" across my forehead without my knowledge, because clearly my son was under the impression I'd approve of his weekend plans without an inkling of apprehension.

"ButMom, youdontunderstand, thismeansalottome. Justtrustme. PLEASE?!"

I trust Adam (sort of) ... at least as much as a mother could trust a fifteen and a half year old boy who is now "dating" a girl I've never met who happens to drive. I do, however, have some problem trusting this older girl I've never met, who will "date" a fifteen and a half year old boy. I also have trouble trusting these friends I've never met who live in this far away town.

I can't help but think that sweet smelling bundle of joy that was handed to me on July 17,1994 should have come with a warning label.

I tossed and turned last night, in anticipation of the argument that would surely ensue this morning when I reminded the boy that, while I would allow his new girlfriend to come to the house and watch a movie with him after school, I would not allow him to carry out any of his other plans this weekend.

No concert. No staying all night at the home of a friend I've never met.

But my worries were all in vain. As soon as Adam came bounding down the stairs this morning he announced that he'd made new plans. Plans he was sure I'd like better.

Becky is still picking him up after school today. They are still going to stop and rent a movie.

And then, they are going to her house to watch it.

But it's ok! Her parents (whom I've also never met) are going to be home.

"C'monMom,Justtrustme, Pleeeeeease?!"

It was back to the mirror again for me. Sure enough, my forehead remains clean and free of any labels that would indicate a lack of motherly wisdom.

To Adam's dismay we are back to the original plans. This girl I've never met, named Becky, will bring Adam home from school and they will watch a movie here within the confines of our own four walls ... quite possibly with me sitting between them on the sofa.

It's the least I can do.

Because I love my son.



Becky Taylor
http://www.boldnewday.com

Sunday, October 5, 2008

Banished

Adam's girlfriend, MacCayla is visiting today, therefore I have been banished from the media room for the afternoon. The two teenagers are supposedly watching a movie, but the last time I checked, they were on the computer "MySpacing" instead. Meanwhile, the movie is blaring away in full volume surround sound, causing the house to shake on it's foundation.

Not only am I not allowed in the media room but every time I've so much as looked in on the little lovebirds, I've been scolded. Apparently, I'm not allowed anywhere near the foot of the stairs that lead to the hallway that leads to the media room either.

It's a bit confusing being confined to such boundaries within my own home. Perhaps, next time the boy is entertaining a young lady, I should invest in a shock collar and electric fencing so I know just where those boundaries are before I get yelled at.

Shoot! I'm only trying to be helpful. Just a few moments ago I suggested that Adam offer his guest a snack. He obediently came downstairs and opened the pantry, then complained that nothing in there appealed to him.

Innocently, (of course) I suggested that he take a bag of "Funyons" upstairs with him. He replied that he didn't want "Funyons".

"Why not?" I asked, reminding him that "Funyons" are one of his favorite snacks.

"MOM!", he gasped in frustration, "You're just spazzing out today over nothing!" and ran back up the stairs empty handed.

I suppose he didn't quite get that I was joking or at least he didn't find it very funny. Of course I know why he doesn't want to share a bag of "Funyons" with his girlfriend. Geeesh! I may be old, (relatively speaking) but I'm not stupid!

Never-the-less, I am giving the youngins just a little space this afternoon, and I am "humoring" them by staying downstairs (most of the time.)

I'm trying not to break any of the "rules" Adam set for me before MacCayla got here. Although it is difficult, I am resisting the urge to go up there and tell her embarrassing stories about Adam's younger years. Neither will I give in to the desire to pull out his baby pictures.

No. Today I will allow his sense of security to build. Then, next time Miss MacCayla comes to call, I will pull out all the stops! Mwahahahaha!

After all, a mother can only be expected to "behave" for so long.