I've always been an emotional person. Some might even say I am overly emotional. I know Coach thinks I am. Eh. Oh well. It's a side of myself that I embraced long ago.
Tonight was the night we went up to the high school and picked up Jock's schedule and textbooks for this upcoming year. Nothing there to get emotional about, right? Most people would agree with you. Unless of course you know me. Then you suspect that there was bound to be SOMETHING that would tug at my heart and make me all weepy. And if you know me, you would have been absolutely right.
We were handed the emergency contact information along with the class schedule, and told to look over it and make any necessary changes. Okay, everything looked fine there. Then we were handed some form or other to sign, an authorization for technology use, I think. What it was didn't really matter, though. What mattered was the information I needed to put on there.
Student name? Check. Student ID? Check. Student Grade? Oh mercy. 11th grade.
When I saw what I had written, I looked over at my handsome boy. I can no longer say I looked down at him. I guess I didn't really even look over at him. I looked UP at him. (Which I will tell you, made this entire thing worse somehow.) I looked up at him, pointed to the paper, and told him that writing that number there was probably one of the more difficult things I'd done recently. So his friend pipes up about how I'll only have to do that one more time next year, and then it will all be over and Jock won't need me anymore.
After I mentally punched this kid in the nose (because OF COURSE I would never ACTUALLY punch someone in the nose, especially if that someone was 20 years younger than I am and a sometime friend of one of my children), I pointed out a small fact that he would do well to remember. Pointing out that the time when a child will no longer need his mother, to that mother, is a bad idea of epic proportions; as it triggers mom tears. To which Jock pointed out, grinning the whole time, that no one wants to deal with mom tears.
That grin and the dimples he was blessed with are the only things that saved him from being punched in the nose. (Okay, fine. The grin, the dimples AND the fact that I don't punch my children in the nose. Sheesh.)
Emotional does not always mean tears. Sometimes it means someone gets punched in the nose.
2 comments:
AAUUGGHH! I would be freaking out! WOW! You've had quite a year! Now Jock is a junior in high school...I would be tearing up too. He sounds like such a good kid though, it has to make you feel just a tiny bit better that he's more well behaved than so many his age and from what I read here, his mom and dad have done a great job at preparing him to be on his own in the real world. He sounds like a really grounded young man. Go ahead and cry. Or mentally punch someone in the nose. It's a mom's right.
I beat mine with a stick. Beat their friends with sticks, too.
Shame on that sometime friend for being so cruel.
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