This is David. He is 20. He is going to be a junior in college, majoring in music. He attends a university several hours from our house. This child/man was unable to find gainful employment the entire summer. He did however play over 300 hours of World of Warcraft on the computer. He's the cow. He has spoken less than 50 words to me in three months and most of them were "Can I have some money?" and "What is for dinner?" He usually rises and shines bright and early around 3:oo...PM so what he really means is "What is for breakfast?" When my husband goes to work at 6:00...AM, they sometimes pass in the hall. Actually, he is a really good kid. He is very smart and knows how to fix things on my computer.
There is something so not right about a mother/child relationship in which a mother will actually cry when a child like this leaves her home to go live in a dorm. I DO need chocolate chip pecan cookie dough. On Saturday, I will drive him to college and leave him. For at least 9 months, I won't have to look at clothes on his floor or hear a disembodied voice from the basement computer say "Make your move, man." And yet, I feel totally and completely bereft at the thought of him leaving. I want to curl up in the fetal position and suck my thumb. Is this that survival of the species thingie? That instinct that keeps mothers from killing their young no matter how bad their rooms smell, and how many times they have to pack and unpack the youngs dorm room, in the rain, while the kid goes to an audition or plays drums at a graduation ceremony. Even when they forget their vaccination form and they won't let them move in until they sign a waiver saying if they get a communicable disease the university won't be responsible and to sign that waiver the mother has to walk about 12 blocks in the rain to get the form.
Thank God for that survival of the species thingie.
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