Thursday, June 26, 2008

Home With the Children

Both my children are home for most of the summer.

Ain't we got fun?

Petra, my younger, seems to have suddenly realized that she is fifteen, and therefore all words which proceed from my mouth are to be met with just the tiniest flicker of an eyeroll. This morning, when I mentioned the pit of Gehenna that is her bedroom floor, she... snorted.

Mourn with me, daughters of Jerusalem.

We used to be best pals, best buds. Many late evenings you can still find us, lumped together on the living room couch like a pile of puppies, watching dvd's of this or that (we're currently moving through all seven seasons of a perennial favorite, "The Gilmore Girls." Does that detail alone illuminate my distress?)

In two weeks she heads off on an Excellent European Adventure through an outfit I originally confused with "Up With People," but which turns out to be a rather serious student ambassador situation. But today, the effort to get her to pick up one piece of clothing from aforementioned bedroom floor may drive both of us over the brink of madness.

Then there's Larry-O. He too is headed off shortly for a summer class in New England. He is miserable to be home. He is mostly polite, but time in the Big City has rendered our Humble Town just a little too small for the likes of him.

We also are having the tiniest difficulty maneuvering the brave new world of parents and children all on Facebook at the same time.

Does a mother respond to her child's status updates, when said updates sound a kind of alarm in her? When they sound like... oh, the child is in distress, or perhaps engaging in activities that might be... well, not so great?

Turns out, no. It is the Rubicon which the mother must. not. cross. On pain of scorn, derision, and the odd temper tantrum.

You know, I was never the mother who said, "Oh, I just loved them when they were little... those were the days!" I did love them, of course, when they were little. But I always, always thought the cool part would be when they became the people they were destined to be-- the grown-ups. Unexpected, mysterious-- I couldn't wait!

Are we there yet?


Songbird said...

We have an agreement: no friending each other on Facebook. It works out better that way. And they are definitely not interested in MY status!

LittleMary said...

oh petra!!!!! so sad:( she has to go through it. you aren't there yet.

Anonymous said...

I've stayed away from Facebook, but when The Dancer goes off to college, it's going to be a way to stay in touch.

I do not envy you the invasion.

KnittinPreacher said...

Perhaps you need a secret code to indicate that you as a parent are concerned for them based on their status update and would like to know that they are not in mortal peril. But to their friends it looks normal. Something like "your netflix DVD's just got here". (I am envisioning an eye roll at the suggestion :) )

At 27 when I moved home and was still having the "clean up your room" discussion (I moved my entire life -- an apartment's worth into a bedroom! No way was it going to be neat) we agreed that I would shut the door and she would only be allowed to comment when I forgot and left it open. But messy at 27 and messy at 15 are different.

Good luck?

3ThingsI'veLost: said...

i love it that you are so close to your kids. you sound like an amazing Mom. :)

more cows than people said...

ah... how painful... but it does pass... you aren't there yet.

no thoughts on fb... just sending you love.