Jacob went to a BBQ today. It was with his girlfriend and her parents. I met them when I dropped him off at their house. Nice folks. And little Miss M is just a cutie, with her silky, red hair and sweet little fourteen year old smile behind those braces. Oh yeah, she could be trouble.
Nonetheless, I was all for the BBQ because since I began homeschooling the boys, I’ve been concerned about them having enough social interaction.
I dropped him off around one pm.
I didn’t get worried until around six when I realized he had been there for five hours and still no call to pick him up. I let it go. Then came seven. Then eight. Look, I am a cool mom, people. I remember 14. I don’t want to embarrass him. But seven hours? What kind of BBQ is this on a Sunday night?
I nonchalantly called her mom. “Uh, yeah, Hi, this is Jake’s mom? Is he…is everything okay?” I didn’t really think about what I was going to say until it was too late to think of something, okay? I stammered through it like a moron.
Of course everything was okay. But they were just sitting down to eat. They were a little busy with other activities that, hopefully, did not include leaving two 14-year-olds alone to explore the birds and the bees…
I asked to speak to Jake. Look, I realize that might be insulting…but you don’t know me. I’m crazier than the entire Jackson clan all rolled in one. I had horrible images of him being bound and gagged, turning on the spit over the fire in their front yard. I don’t know why my mind goes to the places it does. I’m not saying it makes any sense, okay? It’s just the way it is.
He comes on the line. He’s fine. I’m clearly a spaz. I hang up.
9:30 he FINALLY, FINALLY calls. They’re ready for me to pick him up.
There’s no point to this story except that I FINALLY, FINALLY got to say, on the way home: “You know, WHEN I WAS A KID, we never spent 8 hours at a boyfriend’s house for a BBQ. We weren’t even ALLOWED boyfriends. We weren’t even allowed BBQs. We weren’t even allowed to eat. It was all work, all the time. Uphill. Both ways. In the snow.”
He was very impressed. I could tell.
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4 Responses to Across the ages, the voices sing the same.
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“Uphill, both ways, in the snow!” Did you go to the same school as me? LOL!
I doubt I’d have been allowed to spend eight hours at a boyfriend’s house at fourteen, either, but I didn’t have one. Not so much that I wasn’t allowed, more that I hadn’t even thought about it by then! Late starter, I guess!
Me too! My first “serious” boyfriend, one that I would even consider meeting his parents…that wasn’t until 19! NINETEEN. Were we late starters or are they starting earlier and earlier these days??
Yay, Jake! You go boy!
MM
I didn’t get a boyfriend till I was 15 and my parents told me what time I was being picked up. I hated it. i understand exactly; “I had horrible images of him being bound and gagged, turning on the spit over the fire in their front yard. ” I often think out similar scenerios. Perhaps we should go into the horror film business?