Oh....to be 18.
My older son turned 18 in April. Any of you that have or have had kids this age can probably instantly relate. He's a good kid, just flexing is 18 year old (now adult) muscles. You know: house rules should no longer apply, why do I still have to call to check in....He doesn't realize his 'house' is much bigger than this home...and there will always be rules. I remember how hard it was being a teenager. Thinking I knew everything and those older just seemed to worry far to much about all the wrong things. Do they possibly have a point there?? Well, I'll always wear this 'mom' suit to some degree. I'll worry. I'll hope he leads a productive life...give back of himself. These are lessons only to be learned by him. I'm here to provide all the grace he wants and needs. To be 18 again....no thank you. I bought this card for him yesterday:
When I Am Grown-Up
When I am grown-up I will understand how BEAUTIFUL it feels to administrate my life effectively.
Until then I will continue to TORCH all correspondence that bores me and to DANCE NAKED over the remnants of is still glowing embers.
I know he will be fine.....
Had a great workout this morning. Weights/core/stretching. Tonight the girls are taking me out for a belated birthday dinner. Yes....last month I had to update my profile to 46. (That's just 4 from 50 if anyone's else is counting...that's starting to bug me a little..) Tomorrow I'll be heading to Santa Barbara for an overnighter with a few other girlfriends. Have a great weekend everyone. Train safely & enjoy the ones you love!
;)
posted by Deb @ 7:46 AM
4 comments
4 Comments:
So I guess I'll get no sympathy as I worry about 40 next year?
That's got to be tough allowing him to spread his wings. Let him struggle in the water and learn to swim; don't worry, he won't sink.
I've truly embraced the "it's just a number" philosophy. Once I hit 35, I just quit caring. Sometimes I have to ask my wife, "how old am I again?" It's just a number Deb.
As I approached 18, my father made it quite clear that several options would exist. So long as I was in school, I was welcome to continue to live under his house and his rules, free of charge.
If I was no longer in school, I was welcome to live under his house and his rules, so long as I was being productive (had a job).
If I was unproductive, or desired to live by my rules, room and board could be negotiated.
I always figured it was cheaper to honor their schedules, call in when required, and notify them of any longer departure from the nest.
Life begins at 40 and at 46 it's even better! 1960 was obviously the best year in history.
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