Wednesday, February 12, 2014
I can't exactly explain the phenomena that has become a common reaction to anything having to do with my son leaving for college.
One night, he sat on the end of my bed, describing a few roommate requests and I got jittery.
"These guys all seem like uptight, neat freaks," he said.
"Can't you just room with somebody we know, or with somebody who knows somebody we know?" I asked trying to mask my concern with a cartoonish, worried voice.
"Mom, I think I should just leave it up to chance. Have the true college experience, ya know? Why try to force it?" he asks, sounding like Anthony Michael Hall in Sixteen Candles.
"Yes, but, yes but," and then I couldn't help it, I just started laughing and crying at the same time and who knows what I said next but it resembled, "But what if you get a roommate who watches porn and masturbates all the time or who tries to kill you and dumps your body in the river because he's jealous?"
Craughing all the way. Hahahahaugh.
"I mean, how long would it be before I knew you were missing?" More craughing as I brought the covers closer to my chin, my chest shook and tears formed.
"I think I need to be weaned you know? I mean can you text me every night before you go to bed? Can you? At least for the first six weeks?"
"Okay, wait, the first sixty days. I mean the first semester. the whole first semester?" Craughing the whole time.
"Mom. you're doing it wrong. You're supposed to start on the high end."
"I can't. This is pay back isn't it?"
Then he started to laugh as he backed cautiously out of the room. "For what?"
"For when I cut the tip of your pacifier off and told you it was broken. You made little food cuds with your lunch, and sucked on them before you fell asleep at nap time. I get it. I deserve this."
"Mom. It's going to be okay."
He shut the door. I covered my head and stopped laughing, but the tears kept flowing.