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••• Friday, January 16, 2004

Things that keep me up at night, Part II
My son is on semester break, so last night was a "weekend hours" curfew. Before he left I reminded him, again, that it was a work night for me so he needed to be home on time and quiet. He's real good about this stuff, usually. He needed to be home at 12:00.

At 12:15 I woke with a start, realizing he wasn't home yet. He's never this late. I couldn't call him because he had gone sledding and didn't call me with an update on his location (violation number 2). I couldn't call him on his brandspanking new cell-phone because it was sitting downstairs. He had left it at his dad's. Dad had dropped it off as a courtesy, along with his basketball uniform, which he needs for the game tonight.

So at 12:25 he calls. He's all chipper, announcing they had gone out for a bite and lost track of time. I remind him this is a worknight for me. Oops, says he.

When he arrives home, 10 minutes later, I calmly remind him that when I send him out in the world, I need to know he can find his proper way back. When I send him out in the world, I need to know that he's at his thinking best. Always.

Mom, I know. I'm sorry.
You're not going out after the game tomorrow.
You're kidding.
No.

I turn for bed.

Behind me, in the silence, I could hear him puffing up for an argument. I then heard him think twice.

That's my boy. That's my thinking boy.

I don't ground Cam much. I've had no real need. A brief, poignant talk is usually sufficient. Ever once in awhile he needs to be "reeled in." Sometimes, if he's had a tad too much freedom, he tends to equate freedom with autonomy. A blur I equate with trouble.

Anyway. I wasn't sleeping well before he called and after I went back to bed I was wired and feeling kind of guilty. Then I remembered that he had also forgotten about his uniform. This could've been big. Had his dad not been paying attention, Cam wouldn't be able to suit up for the game tonight. I stopped feeling guilty immediately. He needed this reality check.

We all cut corners or "round off" our standards once in a while. It's a dangerous habit for a 17 year-old, whose brain isn't quite done. I believe that excessive cutting of corners as a teen is the leading cause of running in circles as an adult. That's the last thought I remember until...

... 3:00am, when I woke to find a purring cat nose in my nostril. Not near my nostril. In my nostril.

Winterized (read: Housebound) Boosky is obsessed with me. It happens every year.

She wants to be near me. Always.
She wants to be one with me. Constantly.
She wants to be the air I breathe. Literally.

I want to sleep. Peacefully.
With Brain unattended.
Nostrils unenfluffered.

She's Back!
I do have some knitting updates. I have a couple of rows left on the final Berrocan Uxbridge sleeve. I hope to block it tonight. I’m not going to Cam’s game because it’s a 30 mile drive and it’s just too long a night for the Cakers, especially since he played zero seconds the last game. My husband is going with a friend and Cam's dad will be there.

The basketball team drama is a post in the works, but not ready until I can temper my sanguinary impulses.

I'm joining one of the knit-alongs real soon. I'll update later because right now, I'm too tired to link about it.

Ah-May-Zing Followup:Thank you all, for making this blog a living, breathing thang.
# posted by Marcia @ 8:57 AM


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