I am the Lion, my son is the Wizard

My son left for college seven weeks ago. His transition and mine, although decidedly separate, occurred in tangent. Each were equally difficult both to live through and to witness. We were  uncomfortable and heroic but for entirely different reasons. In short, I have missed him incredibly. I believe he has missed me too.

His moving away is very much a double-edged sword. He needs to go to college. I understand that and so does he or at least he will one day. He needs to grow personally and socially. I know all this is right and true, but knowing has not made it any easier.
I miss him terribly and he misses having me around to lean on. I know that life for him is and will continue to be difficult without me in his circle all the time.
He is struggling. I know it. I can see it in his withdrawal. I can hear it in his lazy, disconnected tone. He is jumping through academic hoops and entirely miserable some nights. He says he feels 'lonely', 'lost' and 'out of control.' There are no words more difficult to hear as a parent.
The strange part is that he is doing well in school. Academically he is doing okay and even improving since the beginning of the year. He has found a job working for a person he respects. Personally and socially, he is floundering. From what I have seen, it is not for lack of trying. What I have seen of him as he tries with all his stamina and effort to 'fit in' .... is the my son has somehow turned into the bravest person I know.

Oddly enough, despite that he says he is lonely, no matter that he claims he has no friends. regardless that, to me, he appears to be miserable more often than not, he is flourishing in his own way. My son always has gone about tasks in his own way and by his own method. I should not really be surprised by this. But I am. I am surprised and thrilled that he has endeavored on a plan that I did not and could not conceive - yet it's perfect for him. I know that now. At first, I thought I needed to put one together for him - one that made sense to me. Finally and after many anxious nights and days, I gave up attempting to force him to engage on my terms. I had forgotten what I already knew and learned.

At this age, being on the edge of adulthood, my role in his life has transformed. I am no longer a director and or an enforcer. I am an influencer. What that means is that I no longer get to decide anything for him. I no longer get to declare directives. All I can do is voice my concerns, relay my experience(s) and hope, know and pray that he makes a good decision - whatever that ends up looking like.

On my last visit to campus he was up before I was, had made himself breakfast and set the dishes in the sink. After breakfast he seemed almost chatty. He told me about all the activities he had attended during the week and that he has been trying to get more exercise and eat more to keep his energy and strength up.

My son is taking control of his life. He is assuming responsibility for his life, his needs and his self.

I did not recognize the young man I visited. This man goes out - all the time - even when he doesn't know anyone - even when the function is in a big, loud place, or a complicated social environment. He attends basketball games!! Baseball games, movies, barbecues, student gatherings where ever and when ever. The young man I encountered has taken up exercise so that he can spend time in the gym  - "to be around people." He commits to two-hour bus rides to sporting events in neighboring towns just "to be around other people." He has joined clubs and sought out the campus bible study group. He spends hours at the library - all in an effort to simply increase the chances that he might meet some other students and form a friendship. To date, that hasn't happened and my heart breaks for him. He has tried and continues to try harder to make new friends than I ever would have.
He is so incredibly brave because he is starving for friendship.

Not surprisingly, he lives just short of defeat. I can see that he hurts deeply. I can stare at 'lonely' in his eyes. He is shy and feels alone. I know that if there were a tangible target even if it was one that was in no way responsible for this sad time, he would lash out and try to hurt it back.

I see my son every weekend. I need to see him to make sure he is okay and he needs to see me to be sure that I am still there, that I haven't forgotten about him or moved on to an alternate priority now that he does not occupy most of my time. What he doesn't know is that the simple fact that he is not physically near me does not mean that he I will no longer keep him as a priority needing tremendous amounts of support, love and care. His remoteness means that he is an even larger priority in my life than he was while we shared a home. I have learned to provide all the support that I possibly can in an entirely new way and through wholly different means. There is only so much I can do and a limit to what I can offer. I can do laundry, I can provide moral support. I can make sure he has food he likes and that there is enough there to eat for someone who really doesn't care if he eats or not because loneliness has buried his hunger. There has never been a more critical need for 'comfort food.'

Since he has moved away there are tasks and responsibilities that he must necessarily assume total accountability for. Eating enough and as often as he needed to was a huge challenge the first semester. Keeping track of his belongings has always been a challenge. Now that he is on his own there is nobody close to help him find his Student ID when it goes through the wash or his last five dollar bill abandoned in his sock drawer. People don't understand his habit of hiding things in close, closed places. Why would his car keys be stuffed down between the sofa cushions? I don't know, I simply know that they are and understand that my son likes the way this type of space feels; surrounded, a little tight, but warm and cozy. My son is beginning to understand his own habits.

I don't mean to make it appear that my son is a total bumbling misfit in his new environment. I truly believe that most people when placed in similar situations struggle with all sorts of issues. Some far heavier than those my son faces,
There are reasons I don't easily recognize my son as he once was. He has grown, He has matured. He is becoming the man I knew he would and I could not be more proud.

How exactly, I don't know. He is courageous, He is stronger than he believes. He is learning to be in control of more aspects of his life with every passing day despite that it is difficult and unpredictable. He is truly amazing to me. I watch and am continuously in awe of his perseverance, his unwillingness to quit, his determination to reinvent himself to capture more and more responsibility, his relentless pursuit of the friends that he wants and needs and his simultaneous patience with what is in store for him.

Even though he is in emotional pain and discomfort, I know that he must go through it and come out intact and on the other side to reap the benefits of this life lesson in ways that will require him to grow and mature into the remarkable person he will be.

Nobody else sneaks up on me repeatedly throughout the day to yell-whisper, "Boo!" in my ear from behind. How can you not miss someone who loves to play?!
Nobody else asks if there is anything I need them to do for me - even if it's ten o'clock in the evening.
Nobody else would rather be home with me, even if we are separately busy, than anywhere else.
Nobody else will join me in a room just to share my space with me and smirk at me as I notice his presence the way he does.

I have missed him so much. I have also worried about him handling such a huge change in his environment, fretted for him and his ability to find friends and connections and ached for him when he hasn't,

The first semester is over, He passed all his classes, got himself registered for the next set, ordered his books and began again. He kept his job and continues to try as hard as he can - at everything.

Some might say that he should be trying harder. I would ask them by whose measuring stick should anyone gauge their work if not their own?

I could not be more proud. He is a remarkable young man - capable of so much more than my measuring stick ever accounted for. I am so glad that he chose to throw mine away and use his own.

The Department of Public Safety

My son waited a while - much longer than his younger brother would have liked - to get his driver's license. He wasn't ready at 16 years old and I didn't push him. He had no intention of joining the chaos on the roads and I didn't really see why he should. The environment is nothing but dangerous. He recognized it at a time when I was already so desensitized that I forgot what it looked like.

In no uncertain terms my son explained that other driver's are erratic, do things without giving notice and generally do not follow the rules all of which makes them dangerous.He is SO right!Why would anyone throw themselves into the midst of that unless they absolutely must?

Well . . . because they must. Because they want money and because they need to join life. . . that's why.

It wasn't until his younger brother was old enough to attend Driver's Training with him that he even considered taking the classes. My son needed at least one familiar person there as a shield from the unknown. Cash was his motivation and family was his foundation.

I cannot tell you how many trips to the Department of Motor Vehicles we made. It seemed like each time we were there, some different bureaucratic barrier emerged that hadn't been announced the time before. He didn't meet the age requirement (by one day) despite that he was well over 16 years old. Or he didn't have a document (that wasn't listed in the requirements). Or the appointment had been cancelled without his consent because he didn't arrive and check in a full hour before his scheduled diving test. Somehow, each setback only increased his distrust of the Department as a whole. 

By the time he finally rescheduled his Road Test he didn't believe that some new and unknown condition would not emerge to get block his way to independence once again.

When we arrived at the Department of Motor Vehicles, I stood back and let my son handle his appointment. In fact, I insisted on it. He would have to handle tasks and procedures much worse than this in the future. I though it best if he began his now - when he really wanted something for his effort.

My son's appointment went well. He handled himself well, with confidence and purpose. He handled the officer who took his paperwork politely and with a barrage of questions she was not equipped to answer. He waited alone with the car virtually hours for his road test. Once gone, I prayed for safety and panicked when they returned in just over five minutes.

Walking through the front door of the driving center trying very hard to hold the pride in - he finally smiled. I knew he had done well and that this hurdle, this right of passage had been passed. 

At this point, my son is driving all the time. He enjoys it. He knows when he should and when he has reached his limit. Most important, he loves, soaks in and wallows in the independence and autonomy that being able to drive has brought.

Senior year . . . just like that

We survived Senior Year when we didn't believe we would! We survived because my son is tenacious. He simply does not give up.
So many people told me this day would never arrive. So many people explained the poor chances for success that my son could expect. Some even recommended an institution. Yes, that kind of place.

Never mind them.

Bus route worries; would it be the same? would the same driver be chauffeuring? would it be the exact same bus down to the number on the side? Schedule changes; what if I don't get the classes I need? who will help if I need to make changes? Are all the classrooms, bathrooms and cafeterias still in the same place after a summer of renovations? Would anyone remember him? Only everyone!! Does he have to try in classes that he cannot stand? Who in the heck thought that a class called Medical Terminology would be at all interesting to this child? In spite of all the uncertainties, unpleasant and uninteresting lessons, routines shifts and the like, my son has completed high school and done it well. Most important, he has finished on his own terms, in his way and according to his standards.

Since my son survived the first month of 12th grade, we all survived the same. Everyone did remember him. Everyone always has. I ran into his preschool teacher the other day at the market. She remembered him with great fondness and detail. Everyone remembers my son. I son't know what he was worried about, but I suppose worrying about that is a normal concern no matter who you are.

It has been another remarkable year for my son. He has grown into a truly amazing young man. He is consistently kind, conscientious and considerate. He is good. I just cannot say enough about him. I am so truly proud because he has worked so hard - in many ways harder than most - and he has succeeded. Nothing brings me more joy than to know without a doubt that all his hard work and my determination on his behalf has paid off. I know he is proud too because he tries so hard not to smile when someone tells him about his accomplishments. I cannot mention it. He doesn't like to be boasted upon.


There were times when I wondered if I have pushed him hard enough, expected enough of him, asked him to work hard enough. I still don't know because I don't know what is the right amount of effort for him. Thankfully, I believe he knows. I keep forgetting that what is correct for me is not also correct for him. Again, and thankfully, he reminds me in his way.

In so many ways my son is able to multi-task, combining activities that would make me feel incredibly frazzled and irritated would it were to last very long. Where I combine tasks, he cannot. Where he combines sensory input, I cannot. We run on completely different operating systems, it's true. Regardless of how he has completed this years long task, what matters is that he found his own way and finished on his terms. He did an outstanding job.

We made it through College applications, ACT and SAT exams, Prom, Homecoming, Senior pictures, and End of Course Exams. . . Through all of these, my son has taken on as much as he can and weeded out the parts that don't concern him. Again, they wouldn't be the choices that I would make, but they are not my choices. They are his, and he has made them well and according to his own wants and interest.
Graduation lies ahead; practice, ceremonies, uncomfortable regalia, crowds, photos, squealing parents, insolent yet equally proud and a little bit jealous brothers . . . there is so much ahead yet.

Plano East Senior High School Graduation

But just like that . . . Senior year has come to an end and life will begin again.

Bus

My son loves the bus. Any bus really, but the bus ride to school is (or was) almost his favorite part of the school day. Well, he likely enjoyed the bus ride home better - but you understand.
The bus ride served as the perfect transition mechanism between his home routine and any school expectations that would happen on any given day of the week.

Almost without fail, everyday - there were stories of the bus ride. The juvenile, entertaining and harmless antics of the bus driver who apparently truly enjoyed his morning and afternoon duties with the kids he had temporary custody of. And almost every day this summer - also without fail - come laments over the loss of the same bus driver and the comfortable, repetitive routine he represented.

My son misses riding the bus. His bus.
He has all the makes and models memorized and is always interested in what types of buses other school districts use and for what purpose. In fact, once we were while traveling he commented, "I could never go to school here, their buses are ugly." There was no mention of any other aspect of the school district, neighborhood or an interest in the curriculum. Those were not important.

There were two occasions last school year when I was required to pick up my son from school early for some minor doctor's visit - a check-up or a trip to the dentist maybe. On both occasions my son would practically beg me to return him to school (despite that classes would be over by the time we arrived back at school) so that he could ride the bus home. We would just make it - two minutes to spare. Riding the bus was his routine and he worked very hard to protect it and keep it intact within his day - despite whatever else might be going on or how it might inconvenience anyone else.
If my son was feeling poorly, he would go to school anyway  - so that he wouldn't miss the bus ride. Or, he might refuse to come home early if he wasn't feeling well always citing his need to ride the bus to and from school. Unfortunately the same rigid adherence to routine made it impossible for him to stay after school to attend tutoring sessions or really for any other after school activity. He missed a great deal because of that damn bus, but I am sure that what he gained by sticking to his routine was more than he missed. The problem is . . .  I don't understand it. He does.
Those measures are only easily understood from one perspective. His. I can see what he missed in his grades over a few semesters when tutoring would have helped; in his small social circle that after school clubs may have grown. It is much harder for me to measure the comfort level he gained or sustained by the stoic presence of that giant yellow bus, day in and day out. I can only guess at the anxiety level that might have ensued would the bus driver had quit half way through the year or the bus route changed or worst and almost unimaginable, if the bus hadn't come one day.
I don't know what might have happened. I don't even like to think about it.

All summer my son has wondered if the bus will be the same this year; the same route, the same driver, the same schedule.
All summer he has been waiting for that card in the mail. The one with the bus schedule; his bus stop location and time.

When is that card going to come?

His class schedule . . .  he is not so concerned with.

Driver's Ed . . . . Oh no!

The time is here whether I like it or not.

   Almost everyone learns to drive at some point in his or her life. Some of us choose to learn and then avoid the task altogether by living in an area where it's not required. However, that decision typically comes with the added curtailment of all extracurricular activities like vacations, weekend trips or other travel that might require transportation beyond what is available through the local city or metro area. For most of the population, the choice to give up that autonomy and access would be a very difficult one. For some, it's a no-brainer. The answer is just a clear and definite, "No." For others, it's not really a matter of choice. Not having transportation would make life practically impossible.

Here in Dallas where the public transit system leaves much to be desired, in part due to the shear size of the place and in part due to massive under funding, most area are hugely under-served by public transportation. In addition, the suburban city where my family lives boast an annual population growth of over 25,000 annually with most homeowner's earning a level of income that negates public transportation completely. They simply don't need it. That social and financial luck, combined with vast urban sprawl have created the necessity for residents to commute in vehicles to almost every place they might want to go . . . a person has little choice. Bicycles only work well when the temperature is less than 100 degrees and you ride in a group where it is impossible not to noticed. So . . . half the year. But the other half, when tires begin to melt on the pavement an it's not healthy to be outside for more than a few minutes (because it's 115 degrees) much less exercising - bikes are not a good idea.

Large-tract urban planning has virtually eliminated the 'local community zone' from the map making it unfeasible to consider not having a car if and when the possibility becomes available. That point is the same day most urban-dwelling teenagers reach age '15.'

Driver's Ed.

Even with all the peer-pressure and geographic requirements staring him in the face (not to mention his younger brother giving him hell on a daily basis about not taking the classes) my oldest son does not want to learn to drive. He is afraid. He tells me that he cannot be sure of the actions of other drivers. He says they do not follow the laws and or rules. He's right. He says they behave erratically. They don't communicate. They are emotional. He believes that they are clearly and wholly not reliable. He cannot help but wonder how - if other drivers do not follow the laws or the rules - he will be able to learn to navigate in an environment where he can never be sure what to expect.
I get it. It's a good question and a tough one to answer. In fact, up to today - I have no sound, reassuring answer for him because I cannot make any driving experience a black and white one for him - or anyone. I cannot fix this for him. I cannot guarantee it will be safe. I cannot tell him that every day will be a good one if he does a, b and c: Drives safely himself, keeps his car in good repair and stays alert on the road. I wish I could.

Driving is always a risk

There's just no putting it lightly. Operating a vehicle on any road regardless how it's traveled comes with inherent risk which is multiplied exponentially and directly correlates to the number of driver's on the road.
I can't even count the number of accidents I have been in. Some were bad, but in all I was very lucky. Damage to me was most times minimal -it was the vehicle that took the brunt of the destruction. But still, an accident in some form over a lifetime of driving is probably unavoidable.
I wonder which one of us is more afraid. Most days, I believe it's me who is virtually terrified. So scared.

Classes begin on June 17th.
My stomach hurts.

 We never stop worrying about our kids. Ever. Not for a day and not for a night's sleep.

Soon, (sooner than I'd like) my son will be 18 years old. His birthday is just six short months away and I am incredulous as to how we arrived at this date so quickly. He is a wonderful young man, but 18? . . . No. Is he ready to be 18? Have I prepared him well enough? I worry is that I've missed something; some critical lesson or piece of advice. I've done all I know of and am prepared to do more, but I still worry that my efforts won't be enough - good enough - thorough enough.

Let's see . . . I've got him on advocacy lists - just in case he needs the support because after all . . . who doesn't benefit from a little bit of kind and or sincere support? I don't know a single soul who can't use some at some point.
I've started the legal processes that will enable him to be the strong, self-sufficient adult that I know he will be - but when he's ready. For a toolkit of your own for your child go to:Transition Toolkit

 

I am in court almost as I speak attempting to have child support for him continued beyond his matriculation date and paid into a Special Needs Trust on his behalf. I want his Father to begin paying his son instead of me. His Father is never going to go for it, but how can I not try? My lawyer believes me insane, but how would I look my son in the eye later - when he needs help . . . support, and say, "I thought of that, but I didn't make the effort. It (you) weren't worth it." I have to try.

I worry about him. I worry about his brother for completely different reasons. Like, "Did I spend so much energy worrying about one that I didn't pay enough mind to the other?"  Between the two of them, my concern is non-stop. I suppose that is what being a parent is.
Knowing that I won't always be there with a pack of items he will need throughout the day. Teaching him to pack that bag on his own.

Later I may realize that I got it wrong, but at least I will have tried my hardest, my best and with everything I've got while simultaneously attempting to leave them both responsible for their lives in growing proportion as they mature into adults. How can that be bad, right?

Ups and Downs

If you never knew it until this day; If somehow you have gotten this far without being brutally and glaringly told; If you have been lucky enough to have avoided one side . . . Let me tell you.

Life is full of Ups and Downs.

We all have them. We spill our coffee and ruin a brand new blouse doing it only later to find a $50 bill just lying there and nobody in sight - silently sitting in with the packs of gum at the gas station. Money arrives in the mail from a rebate we sent in so long ago that we had forgotten just about the same time we drive over a nail in the alley and need a new tire. Some people call it Karma. It's just the way life is - for most of us.

This week is TAKS week. My son is taking three this year. All the important ones. Those that he will need to do well on to graduate. He is nervous about them - and rightly so. They are a big deal and the school has made kids anxious about them with years of test-taking practice. Despite that he claims he isn't nervous, I know he is. He is anxious and suffering from a severe self-confidence drought.
Thank goodness for that Karma-thing!

Not two days ago my son received a phone call from someone who worked for a National company in his field of interest who wanted to interview him about the work he does creating his weather blog; Dallas Storm Watch. This gentleman who called wanted my son to fly out to his location and meet with him. Unfortunately, my son will be in 5th period at High School during that time and cannot attend. The caller could not have known that he was contacting a teenager.

 

Click here to go to the StormWatchDallas website

How terrific is that? My son's weather page must be so professional that the caller thought that he was calling a work-at-home adult for an interview!!

Good job son!!! I am so proud of you!

Honestly, I would fly out there with him if he wanted to go, but my son isn't keen on flying, so he has arranged a Skype interview instead. Another stroke of genius! I certainly wouldn't have come up with that solution. I just don't think that way. Thankfully, he does.
Is there anything better than national, unsolicited, positive attention when someone is feeling like he just might be a failure?

I don't think so.

I am, once again, so proud of him! He's gotten the recognition of someone who might really be able to tell him precisely how talented he is purely based on his knowledge and perseverance alone. And, he's gained this recognition just at the moment his fragile ego most needs a gentle boost.

It's fabulous!! And I am so happy for him.

I can't wait to hear how the interview goes. At first, he won't tell me because he hates recognition. He's so embarrassed by his own fantastic-ness factor.

Eventually he will tell me how the interview went and provide me a copy of the article the gentleman will write. Until then and even if he doesn't remember - I know that I'm not the only one who is impressed by him.