Note to reader: This is part of an occasional series of postings chronicling my son Greg's senior year in high school. The above photo was taken on August 14, 2009, Greg's last "first day of school." Finally, the last year of school has arrived. Greg's senior year began Friday morning when he got himself up, made his own breakfast, and drove himself to school in his own car (okay, legally the car belongs to us, but he's the sole driver now). Technically, the only reason I had for getting up early to see him off was to take the photo at the top of this posting. Of course, Greg thought I was slightly crazy and certifiably corny for doing so. He muttered a mildly annoyed, "Oh, Mom," but he was a good sport about it!
It's a far cry from years past when I was his alarm clock, knocking on his door at 6:45 am . . . and again at 6:50 . . . 6:55 . . . "Greg, it's 7:00 -- you need to get up NOW!" I made him breakfast most every morning until the middle of last year when he finally agreed with me that he could pour cereal into a bowl just as easily as I can (and add milk, too!). The days when he needed me to help him tie his shoes in the morning and double check that his signed permission slips were in his backpack are ancient history now. Those were things for which I automatically assumed responsibility while Greg was in grade school. Particularly in the early grades, I kind of enjoyed "hovering" -- I felt, well, needed. But that began to change by the time Greg entered 6th grade. I'm sure I'm not the only mom who discovered what was adorable behavior in an 8-year-old became downright exasperating in an 11-year-old. I kept reminding myself that my job as a parent was to gradually usher my child to adulthood, and that meant letting him -- no, insisting -- that he start doing a few things for himself. Easier said than done. All my fantasies about getting to sleep in until 8:00 once Greg hit 7th grade went out the window.
My usual routine all through Greg's junior high years went something like this:
6:20 am -- Greg's radio alarm turns on, blasting me out of bed. After four or five blaring minutes in which he obliviously remains asleep, I stagger out of bed, knock on his door, and yell over the din, "GREG! HIT THE SNOOZE BUTTON!" (This scenario is repeated at least twice.)
7:05 am -- Greg finally crawls out of bed, takes a leisurely shower, and gets dressed. Of course, time is growing short, so (against prevailing child-rearing wisdom) I make him breakfast --which he gulps down in five minutes or less, spurred on by my impatient reminders that his ride will be here ANY MINUTE!
7:35 am -- While Greg feverishly brushes his teeth, I retrieve his horn from the studio and set it by the door (because, of course, he won't remember it). As he's stuffing his iPod into the outer pocket of his backpack (funny -- he doesn't need any reminders about that particular item), I'm handing him a signed paper (there was always a paper that had to be signed and returned) and saying, "Now DON'T forget to give this to (fill in the blank) as SOON as you get to school! Go STRAIGHT to (his/her) room before school and turn it in!"
And so it went, day after day, for three and a half years. I learned to ask on a daily basis for updates on band schedules, assignment due dates, and fee payment deadlines. Most of the time I got a bewildered "I don't know," which usually meant I'd better start making phone calls or go online and find the information myself. There was some improvement when Greg entered high school. We went from "I don't know" to "Oh, by the way, Mom, I need (fill in the blank) by tomorrow!" We had jumped from the fire into the frying pan -- we were making progress! Still, I resigned myself to being Greg's unpaid personal assistant for the rest of his formal schooling.
Then, somewhere in his sophomore year, Greg started behaving oddly. He would announce to us that he had homework to do, and he would actually go to his room and do it. If he had papers that needed to be signed and returned, he would hand them to me as soon as he got home from school with the urgent admonishment, "I need you to sign this now -- it has to be turned in a week from Monday!" His grades, which had not exactly been at the top of his priority list in junior high, were suddenly . . . important. By the end of his junior year, Greg was a straight-A student. He has also worked a part-time job at Pizza Hut for eight months. And did I mention he mows the lawn, does his own laundry (with very little prompting from his parents, I might add), and even cooks some of his own meals? If I didn't know better, I'd say he acts like, well . . . a grownup!
And, in grownup fashion, the last "first day of school" was pretty uneventful. Nothing to get too excited about -- this is so routine anymore. The first day of Kindergarten was monumental; I really felt like a sea change had occurred in my life. This year? Not so much. I didn't feel the wistfulness I expected. I suppose it will hit me later. Then again, maybe not. After all, I've spent the last seventeen years of my life raising my son to be a functioning, productive adult, fully capable of taking care of himself. The fact that he can cook for himself, do his own laundry, and keep his grades up while responsibly holding down a part-time job speaks for itself.
So, I've decided not to think of Greg's senior year as a year of "lasts." Instead, I'm thinking of it as a year of refinement. All the elements are in place -- they just need to be polished. For me, that's what Greg's senior year is really all about -- putting the finishing touches on this work of art that has been 17 years in the making. For him, it's about just getting through it and moving on. Either way, I'm encouraged that he made a trip to the store tonight to get buy some cereal for breakfast tomorrow -- his last "second day of school." I'm looking forward to sleeping in for a change!
No comments:
Post a Comment