Party Perspectives

The graduation party is today, so, of course, I woke up at 4:07 a.m. with a litany of all the things I need to accomplish.
I lay in bed until 5 before I got up, only to find Tucker asleep on the couch in the living room. I don't know why, and won't know until he wakes up later, so I'm creeping around the house in the dark to let him get a little more sleep.
I wonder if sleeping on the couch has anything to do with the fact that he got hit by a car two days ago as he was riding his bike. He's okay, just skinned up and shaken up.
He called me right after it happened. It makes me feel thankful that his first reaction is still to call mom.
He wouldn't let me come get him, said he was walking the bike home, but we both were shaking when he came through the back door, his palms, elbows and knees bleeding.
The car just pulled out in front of him and hit his front tire throwing him off the bike. The car didn't even stop.
Other than asking me to put Bandaids smeared with antibiotic ointment onto his palms and explaining why he can't help with yardwork because of his wounds, he has acted like everything is fine.
I vented a bit on Facebook about the car that didn't stop, and an old high school classmate sent me a message, saying she knows how difficult this time of year is for our family.
Yes, that adds to the tension. A graduation on Memorial Day, just like my sister's graduation on the weekend she was killed.
A party planned.
We're so lucky that Tucker walked through the back door, and I guess that puts my worries about a party in better perspective.
This weekend, we'll celebrate and not worry about whether the house is clean enough or the lawn is perfect or the food will last through the crowd.

Breakfast Test

Last night when I got home from work after 9, I found my 17-year-old sitting on the couch in the dark watching college football. I plopped down beside him for a few minutes to chat. Before he went to bed, I asked whether he'd like pancakes for breakfast.
"Yes," he replied.
"Scrambled eggs too?" I asked.
"Sure."
So he went to bed and when I woke up Friday morning, I realized I'd have to cut short my run in order to get back in time to cook breakfast for Tucker. That was fine.
I just ran a couple of miles and headed to the kitchen.
Pancake batter at the ready, eggs beaten, blueberry sauce simmering in the pot, I listened for the shower to turn off so I could cook the eggs and pancakes.
I scrambled the eggs, making sure to get them dry the way he liked. I carefully cooked the pancakes to be sure they were done, but not brown.
By the time Tucker moved to hang up his towel in the bathroom, dressed for the day, I called to him that his breakfast was ready.
I set the plate on a place mat and poured an oversized glass of milk, which is what he drinks most mornings.

As he walked into the dining room, he looked at the plate and said, "I don't have time to eat that. I need to leave."

I shrugged and didn't make eye contact. 

"What am I supposed to do? I can't possibly start eating now."

"Do what you have to do," I said. 

So he slipped his shoes on and approached me as I stood over the sink washing the skillet I used to cook the eggs. He bent down for me to kiss him on his bearded cheek.

"Thanks for the breakfast, Mom," he said.

Then he paused at the wooden cabinet and pulled out a pack of Pop Tarts before he closed the door behind him.

I stared at the plate. I hadn't been home from my run long enough to be hungry yet and I thought about being angry at my selfish teenager. But I think selfish teenager is redundant. 

Tucker spends a lot of evenings at home alone while I teach. Many evenings dinner is just pizza or something we pick up at Subway. 

I spend a lot of time juggling classes, talking to Grace or Spencer at college, spending time with my husband. Tucker may feel the need to test me, to see if I'll change my schedule to kowtow to his needs.

And this morning, I did. I passed his test. 

But because I didn't throw a fit about him skipping the breakfast I lovingly cooked, I'm pretty sure that guilt is nibbling at him somewhere. 

Anything Else You'd Like to Know About ...Me?

Another author interview today as I continue my week of online France Book Tours. Today you can see an interview on French Village Diaries. Jacqui asked some fun questions and I got to relate the story of discovering a Turkish toilet near Notre Dame.
I hope you'll stop by and leave a comment.
For those of you who may be getting tired of reading about me or my novel, I'll share some of my glamorous home life.
Last night, I was teaching a class when I received a text from my middle child, 19-year-old Spencer.
"I found dry cat puke. Should I clean it? Please say no."
Well, at least it made me laugh.
Some things never change.

Money and Pain

I made a medical decision this week based on money.
I know it's something that a lot of people have to do, and I'm hoping I won't regret it because it wasn't about me, it was about Tucker.
At the first swim meet of the year, on the concrete blocks diving in, his right foot slipped as he dove. The left leg hit hard against the concrete block.
The crowd  went "Oooooh" as he hit the water.
I was timing in his lane, and I didn't think about him being hurt. I watched to see if he would force himself to catch up with the boy beside him, cause he hates to lose, even if it is because of a bad start. He finished the race, a 100 butterfly, but finished just behind the boy next to him.

This is a photo from a summer ago as Tucker swam the butterfly

Again, I was standing behind the blocks not too concerned, except thinking he would be mad that he had slipped. But the boy next to him turned and said, "Are you okay, Tucker? I heard you fall."
And the coach came to the edge of the pool and said, "Did you hurt yourself, Tucker?"
Later she said she was worried that he had pulled something because of the awkward start.
When Tucker hoisted himself out of the pool, he wouldn't put any weight on his left leg and he had a knot on his shin.
The boy next to him helped him to a chair and one of the dads, who is a sports medicine doctor, went over to look at Tucker. I kept timing and didn't think much about it.
I heard the doctor saying, "Do you feel nauseated?" and Tucker nodded. He was shaking and pale. A couple of guys helped him get to the room where the kids rest between events and Tucker lay down. The doctor kept telling him to slow down his breathing because he was going to hyperventilate.
Tucker put his hoodie over his face and breathed into it. I think he was hiding tears.
We got some Advil for him to take and after a few minutes of hovering above him, he told me to leave, he'd be fine. So I went back to timing.
Then someone came in and told me Tucker was throwing up.
The doctor and I both went back to check on him. About half an hour had passed and he was still in a lot of pain, pale and shaking, along with throwing up. The doctor said he didn't think the bone was broken, but we should take Tucker to the emergency room for x-rays.

This is what I wanted to do to make Tucker feel better
but he isn't a toddler anymore

The doctor later explained that the shin is one of the most painful places to be injured because there's nothing between the skin and the bone.
Two guys helped carry Tucker out to the car, acting like human crutches. Tucker still couldn't put any weight on his hurt leg.
In the dark of the car, Tucker reclined the seat and I slowly began to drive in the direction of the Children's Hospital.
I heard his breathing slow down as the car passed through the lighted streets. I had his phone in my pocket and I set it in the console between us. He didn't pick it up, which really worried me. Teenagers are rarely witout their phones.
I started talking to Tucker about the pain and the hospital.
I didn't say it, but I was thinking about the $200 co-pay the minute we walked in the emergency room.
Unfortunately, my earlier bout with a broken nose and surgery to correct it had depleted all of the money we had in our Medical Savings Account. A trip to the emergency room for me, plus surgery probably cost us a total of $2000, and that's with our good insurance. From here on, we were footing the bills directly from our checking account, which pays for two kids to go to college.
I didn't want to choose not to go to the ER because of money.
We decided to take a night to think about it. If we needed xrays the next morning, the doctor could send us to a walk-in place rather than the ER.
So we got back to the house and I ran in to grab the crutches. He was able to get into the house and ease himself into a recliner, where he sat for the rest of the night.
He started feeling well enough to drink some ginger ale and eat some pretzels. Later I gave him a bowl of macaroni and cheese.
This morning, he goes for his scheduled physical so we'll know more. The pain is less, but he still can't put weight on the front of his foot. He may yet go in for xrays. I hate having to make medical decisions based on money, but I know people do it every day in this country. That's crazy.
How about you? Do you put off medical care because of money?

Playground

I love taking care of our niece's little girls, but as I stand here at the park watching Caroline go down the slide for the 100th time, I can't help but think how mind-numbingly boring it is to take care of little kids.

I guess I had too few brain cells to notice how bored I was when my kids were little.

The Perfect Storm

This morning at 7 a.m., I turned on the Weather Channel.
I'm going to have to admit that before yesterday, I didn't know where the Weather Channel was, but talk on the news about Tropical Storm Isaac and the Republican Convention in Tampa led me to search for the Weather Channel. Not because I'm attending or I'm worried about the delegates, but because Spencer is now in college close by.
The first taste of adulthood, a beach, and a hurricane may just add up to the perfect storm.

I first mentioned the storm to Spencer on Saturday while on FaceTime. FaceTime is like Skype except we can do it on our iPhones. I caught him still in bed at 12:30.
"Yeah, we thought we'd just ride out the storm here. Just hunker down," he said, his eyes bleary as he lay shirtless in bed.
I explained that it didn't look like the college was going to allow that. They had an evacuation plan to take the students inland. He had a meeting at 4 on Saturday.
I finally reached him again Saturday evening. Yes, the college was heading toward evacuation, but he and some friends had decided on their own plan. They were going to get a couple of hotel rooms in Orlando.
"What?" I might have screeched.
"I don't want to go to some camp," he said.
He ran through a list of friends he'd known for two weeks now. They planned to drive to Orlando, hang out during the Tropical Storm.
I started adding up costs, gas, hotel, food. No supervision. A bunch of 18-year-olds in a hotel room. This looked like a disaster.
"This might be the shortest college career in history if you run out of money after three weeks," I warned him in a bad mothering moment. "You know you still need to pay for your fall books."
"Some people have already gotten kicked out," he replied.
"Okay, I'm proud that you're working hard," I said, pulling back from the brink of even worse parenting. "I just don't think this is a good decision."
Later that night, another email from the college explained that the students should bring their books for their classes and instruction. I called Spencer again to "reason" with him.
He was quick to cut me off.
"I'm going with the college," he said.
And I exhaled in relief.
The college was busing the students inland to a camp, but they would be together, organized, under someone else's supervision. And the college would pick up the tab.
I don't know if Spencer reconsidered, or maybe the parents of his friends were more persuasive, or maybe the parents of his friends put their foot down. "No! You are not going."
However it happened, this afternoon, Spencer is scheduled to evacuate with the rest of the freshman at his college. Unless the storm changes course. Then, they might get to hunker down and watch the rain, the wind and the surf increase. Well, that will bring a whole other host of worries for me.
Update: Luckily for us, the storm did change course and the college decided around noon not to evacuate. Maybe his first instinct was right.
I hope all of those other college students and residents in the path of the storm are safe too.

Independent Drivers

Today, my youngest got his driver's license. So that's it. Five licensed drivers in the house, counting me and my husband, and only 2 cars.
But two of them (kids, not cars) will be off to college in the fall so we'll be back to 3 drivers at home.
The good news is, I have one more person to send out to buy milk when I'm too lazy to go

Those Were the Days

I lay awake in bed at 4:30 this morning, thinking about the text messages I read on my older son's phone. Sometimes, it's better not to know.
I was going to run, but wasn't motivated, so I walked up to the bank and then by my friend Sheila's house. I pried her out of her house to walk with me to get coffee at Starbucks. We talked about our teenagers and frustrations. I feel like we're making so many sacrifices and they just keep wanting more. I'm working more and more, looking for a third job to pay for college, as I handed over $60 for prom tickets this morning.
I don't have to be at work til noon today, so I vacuumed and gathered clothes to donate to Goodwill. In the pockets of a furry brown fleece, I found five tickets for the water bus in Venice.

Why can't we go back to simpler times like that?
Here's a photo of me wearing the coat in Venice. I definitely think it's time to give it away.

Here are the kids with Spencer pretending to throw Tucker off one of the bridges of Venice.

I'm feeling pretty defeated in my parenting role right now. I wonder what all the sacrifices were for.
But now I need to get ready for work so I can earn enough money to pay for tuxes and corsages this weekend, and college courses in the fall.