Today, That Didn’t Happen.
Since Dylan has been at college, Shane and I have a routine – that we actually follow. It works like clockwork.
Shane does his thing; I do mine. We meet downstairs for breakfast, which I serve to him (because I am happy to put that cereal in a bowl and put a piece of fruit next to it). While he eats, I make his lunch (because I am happy to throw crackers into his lunchbox). And then we leave, on or near 7:07 a.m., which gets us to school just in front of the school traffic back-up.
Shane is often the first or second person in class, which is how he likes it. And I get home before 8:00, which means I can get ready for work, or walk the dog, or whatever – all before 9 a.m.
But today, that didn’t happen.
Today, I did my thing – but Shane’s door was closed tight, and no lights were on. Since he wakes himself – and should, at the ripe old age of nearly 16 – I went downstairs. I made his breakfast, which sat on the table. I made his lunch, which sat on the counter. I took care of the dog, and I waited.
I debated waking up Shane, since I had done it for Dylan on many occasions. But I had woken up Shane before – just once, maybe a year ago – and I’d told him that I wasn’t going to do it again.
Shane is responsible for getting himself out the door on time.
So at 7:07, I crawled back into bed.
Two minutes later, there were thumping sounds. The dog was with me; Bill was at work. Obviously, Shane had slept through his alarm – and was now up.
A minute later, he appeared in my room, breathing fast: “I was supposed to be gone by now!”
“Slow down your breathing,” I said. “And go get ready. You may have to skip your shower.”
So he did his thing; I put his a portable breakfast into the car, and waited. He came downstairs with his homework, grabbed his lunchbox, and threw his backpack, shoes and socks into the car.
We left the house at 7:20. When Dylan was home, we often left even later than that – which no one enjoyed.
“Eat,” I said, in the car, after his shoes were on. And he ate. Silently.
Somehow, we slid in between waves of traffic. We drove quickly.
I spoke a bit about how sleeping in was fairly normal for teenagers – i.e., people who go to bed later than they should, and have to be up early for school. I didn’t yell. I tried not to lecture. I suggested a back-up alarm for the future.
But we didn’t have a lot of time to talk about it anyway. We ended up in a backup, but not a long one, and Shane got to school with five full minutes to spare.
I pulled away from the school as the first bell was ringing.
When I got home, I had a text from Shane: 2nd person in class
He sent a little thumbs-up emoticon with his text.
I thumbs-upped back.
Somehow, he slept in, woke himself, and still got to school on time.
I thanked God, and then took a little nap myself. Not lecturing, not yelling, and not being in complete control is absolutely exhausting.