Dating

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It Hurts Us More

When you have a child, the adage goes, “it hurts you more than it hurts your child.” that applies to everything from the common cold to your child’s first heartbreak. It doesn’t get any better as they get older.

Adam’s first semi-formal dance is this weekend. The weather people are calling for a snowstorm to hit Friday into Saturday morning. I can’t help but feel my anxiety level going up with wonder. Will the dance happen? If it does, will other students bail because of the weather? Will parents complain because the dance ISN’T postponed? Will the caterer show up? Will the DJ be able to get there? Hey – it’s NOT my event! Why am I so worried? It hurts me more than it hurts him. Being a young man, Adam lets things slide. If it doesn’t work out, he shrugs and moves on. While disappointment is certainly a part of life, it’s great to be able to limit or ward off those disappointments when you’re young.

What’s so frustrating about these winter storms is how absolutely gorgeous it is today. Mother Nature loves to give us the calm before the storm. This is a perfect winter day: crystal-clear, blue skies, a light wind and no hint of bad weather. Everywhere you look, online, on TV, the newspaper, the dire prediction is there: we’re in for a storm. Now that I haven’t been “working” the storms in a while in radio, they don’t bother me as much. I don’t dread the storms or worry about them. I generally embrace the storms. The December 20th storm that socked everyone in, sent Doug and I out into the winter wonderland for a ride from South Jersey to Northeast Philly to visit my parents. During a storm is the BEST time to food shop. While some supplies may be down because of all the bread-and-milk runs just before the storm, the aisles are empty, the staff is pleasant and you have nice, pleasant conversations with anyone you come in contact with. They’re nuts, just like you. Go ahead, take a ride – get your errands done. The only vehicles on the road are the brave few and the salt and plow trucks.

Here I am, embracing storms, but so concerned that my son and his friends will be disappointed if their dance is postponed. We picked up his suit this week; today he gets a haircut; I washed his new dress shirt so it’ll be comfortable to wear; I ordered the wristlet for his date and will pick it up Saturday. If Adam is concerned about the weather or a postponement, he’s not showing it. Of course, this is the young man, who with his father, camped out in sub-freezing weather last weekend, without a working bathroom at their campsite and of course, no hot shower for two nights.  (Ugh!)

When Adam was swaddled in a blanket in my arms, I worried when he spit up (and boy, was he a spitter. When he started getting ear infections after he went to nursery school, I felt his pain and discomfort. When he was bullied for the first time in elementary school, I wanted to throw myself in the line of fire and shake the shoulders of the boy doing this to ask, “WHY?” We learn our children have to learn on their own. It hurts us to see them fail, or be bullied or suffer a disappointment. In the end, we guide them, console them and let them know we are there to help.

I hope the dance happens and Adam and his friend enjoy the heck out of the event. I hope the snow doesn’t get in the way and everyone is safe and warm at the event. For now, I think I’ll make my food shopping list and try not to worry too much.

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A Little of This…A Lot of That..

My husband noticed I haven’t blogged in several days. This reminder almost (but not quite) felt like a boss nudging me to get a job done. There’s been a lot of this and that going on. Doug was away on business in China for 11 days. These long absences give me outrageous respect for single parents. While there is just one son to shuttle around and oversee, there are always days when extra hands would help. Those days got in the way of blogging.

Spring semester at Rutgers got underway last week. I now have 42 kids..I mean students. Unlike last semester, I don’t have single parents or students who have children in this class. I do continue to have students who are working their way through school; some have two jobs; a few are helping support their families; about 15% are from other countries. I did a great thing. I decided there was no way I would ever remember 42 names. I made terrific name plate for each student in a large font. They keep the name plate with them and put it on display for each class. It’s amazing how I am getting to know their names. It’s really fun sharing experiences with the class. They are starting to come out of their shell and realize that I really am there to help them..not lecture to them. The students who stand-out (in a good way) always show themselves first. Their hands go up answering questions or making comments and they seem to stay alert for the hour and twenty-minute class. Now, I have to work on reaching the ones who seem to hunker down in their seat and hide.

Their first writing assignment was to introduce themselves to me and explain how the course will help them. I really enjoy reading their pieces. There are students who have rarely written before. One student talked about his job on a road work construction crew. He mentioned the swearing goes on as part of the “business communication.” Such a hoot. Several students wrote about working toward their degree so they can begin their career in their family business. Other students wrote about their journey toward their education in the U.S. from another country. Fascinating to get just a glimpse of the stories

Joanne & Ryan - We'll miss you!

among 42 students.

The other journey beginning is of my friend Joanne and her son. She is a lieutenant colonel in the army and shipped out to a base in Germany this week. We went to their farewell party last weekend. Joanne is one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. She is a Presbyterian minister, the head chaplain at Ancora State Hospital where the most deranged, criminal mental patients are housed. She is a single mom with two teenaged sons. She’s served two tours in Iraq; in her earlier life she was a champion swimmer; she counsels grieving families and listens to the family problems of soldiers and their families. Joannedoes all this with a personality and demeanor that is always bright and happy. She is so loved and respected, it fills me with joy that she is part of my life in some small way. I will truly miss seeing her face over the next 18 months.

My son is preparing for his first semi-formal event. The sophomore cotillion takes place soon. The three of us went to get him a suit, shirt, tie, shoes – the whole package. As I watched the salesman measure Adam for the suit and then the shirt size, I did get a little weepy remembering buying his first pair of sneakers when he could barely walk. WHY we spent $36 for those shoes still boggles my mind today. Now, we hope the nearly $200 we spent on his entire ensemble will fit him for more than a week. The gal he is going with to the cotillion is a friend from church. She asked him. Sweet. He’s also found out that another girl wanted him to ask her to the dance. He’s learned, it’s nice to be wanted.He also took the written NJ driver’s test at school today. He says it was easy. Just wait until he gets behind the wheel. Brace yourself!

As we face another winter chill, I’ll work on trying to keep my posts more current. So much to do; so little time – and that time is so very precious.

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Adam went on his first date. Our 14-year old son, seemingly out of no where, deadpanned the other night,” I want to go to the movies with a friend Saturday night.” I deadpanned back at him, “What’s her name.”
While my husband videotaped what he and my son expected would be a freaked-out reaction, Adam stepped away from the dinner table. It was then I looked at my husband with that, “Oh-my-god-I-can’t-believe-he’s-growing-up-so-fast” look. The shock settled into a warm, fuzzy emotion in realizing this day would come. I just didn’t believe Adam was in a place where a “date” was in the picture. What was even more shocking was Adam told us that night he had been “dating” the girl for (exactly) 16 days. He said they decided April 1st, they were “going out.”
Thinking back, I don’t know how much I told my parents about my early “dating” exploits. My husband and are happy Adam apparently felt comfortable telling us about his girlfriend. After meeting the young lady, I remarked to my husband that it seems we are raising him OK. (Big sigh, there.) We couldn’t help but think ahead to the inevitable “heartbreak.” To this day, I remember when my 6th grade boyfriend (I was mature for my age) dumped me. I honestly don’t remember the actually dumping, just the hysteria from me that followed and the big “ta-doo” is ingrained in my mind forever. After being surrounded by friends during recess that day, I was taken to Miss Cusack’s office at Rhawnhurst Elementary where I cried some more. Some how I got past Bobby and the dumping incident. There were many other times when I was the dumper and the dumpee, but somehow, when this happens to my son it’ll be different. I’m guessing a text message will be involved from one side or the other. But what will be the same will be tears.
For now, realizing our only child is on yet again, another journey I sit back and enjoy and learn from the experience. He’ll be 15 years old soon and as with any birthday comes another set of growing pains. We keep saying we’ll only have Adam around full time for a short while longer. Embracing each step along the way is a joy to behold in this thing we call parenthood.