What Have I Done For You Lately?
My son turned 18 on March 15th. He’s not the most independent young person I’ve ever known. As a matter of fact, he’s not independent at all. Not to turn this into one of those rants about “back in MY day”, HOWEVER, when I was his age I had applied to numerous colleges, selected which college I’d be attending, had already decided to study in Europe for my junior year, picked a major, and was applying for scholarships and financial aid.
My son has no idea what he’s doing “today”. Tomorrow is a word he can barely say, and he certainly doesn’t understand the meaning of the word “future”. If a scholarship essay is due tomorrow, he’ll start on it the previous evening. Everything is “last minute”, rushed, and therefore never looked over twice or edited or thought about for more than a few minutes. Preparedness does not exist in his vocabulary.
Therefore, I find myself helping him get everything done on time. Is this enabling him or should I just let him fall on his face until he “gets it”? Of course when he was growing up I did everything for him. Duh. He was a kid. But he’s still a kid. He is no more prepared for life on his own now than he was when he was 3 years old. These past two years we’ve been trying to “prepare” him for life in the big people’s world and although he says we treat him like a baby, he doesn’t manifest any behavior indicating that he’s any older than a toddler.
This entire head discussion I’ve been having with myself was prompted by his telling me last night that I never make him any meals any more. THAT was prompted by the fact that his 13-year-old sister has been sick for the last 5 days with a high fever and a cough and I’ve had to do everything for her. He sees me being the maid for her and wanted the same. And I thought to myself, what the heck is he talking about? I’ve done everything for him for most of his life and he’s complaining that I don’t fix him dinners any longer? Could it be because he’s never around and doesn’t call to tell me whether he’s even coming home for dinner anyway? Or could it be that every time I set dinner down on the table he screws up his face and says he won’t eat it.
Hello? Do I feel under-appreciated or what?
Posted on April 6, 2012, in Blog Posts and tagged blogger, blogging, motherhood, Patricia Delagrange, Patricia Yager, Patricia Yager Delagrange, Patti Delagrange, Patti Yager, Patti Yager Delagrange, women's fiction. Bookmark the permalink. 15 Comments.