He's just a little frenetic. I don't think a lot of planning goes into his life. And I'm trying not to be a helicopter mom, but rather a safety-net mom, there to catch him before he leaps from a dangerous place.
They started a new semester at college yesterday and after his accounting class, he told me that the book is $300. That includes access to the online portion with quizzes, so we can't buy the used book.
I knew, but he didn't, that we had some credit with the school from financial aid. So this morning, I got online and ordered books for his class. It requires some back and forth between his schedule and the bookstore, but I finally managed to order books for three of his classes and the cost was $550. I clicked on financial aid for the payment then text messaged him at 8 a.m. before I left for work.
Around noon, I called him to see if he'd gotten my text message.
"No, what?" he asked.
I told him he could pick up the books at the bookstore.
"Okay, but I'm getting ready to go to lunch so I'll check after lunch."
And with that he was gone.
|Here's Spence at his dorm after being sick all day, |
but I was leaving him and wanted a picture
"Donating blood, right?" I asked.
"What the f-- other kind of giving blood is there?" he asked.
"Language," I warned.
"Oh, sorry." I could hear his buddies around him laughing.
"Sometimes people sell their blood," I explained, remembering my college roommate who went every week to sell her plasma for the cigarette money.
"No, I'm just donating," he said.
"Okay, I'll call financial aid and make sure you can get the books," I told him as his voice faded from the phone.
I called the college and got everything straightened out.
It had been about 45 minutes since I talked to Spencer, so I thought he might be finished donating blood. I called him.
"Mom, I'm right in the middle of giving blood."
"Okay, I thought you might be finished. Call me back so I can tell you what you need to do."
In a little while, the phone rang.
"I've only got one percent left on my phone so make it quick," he said.
That's when I just became exhausted with these bursts of conversation followed by some sort of activity.
"Pick up the books tomorrow and call me when you can talk for more than five minutes," I said.
My head just reels from the various directions he is headed in, like a fly buzzing around the room, zipping here, zipping there.
Two and a half more years for him to get through college, hopefully. Maybe he'll be a little more focused by then.