Skip to main content

That Special Line

 


Just as I was dozing off, my text message bell ‘tinked’.  I made up that word. Because I knew, it could only be my oldest three times zones away. No one else would have forgotten that 11:30pm was too late to text me. Yet, the timing of the ‘tink’, set off the ‘Mommy Alarm’. Its just that. Or it’s a really, super close friend in a bind. So, either way I’d better check the ‘tink’.

Yes, it was child number one three time zones away. So, as adult as she’s working on being as a freshman in college, there is so much more she needs to learn. I saw her panicked texts. I understood her premature panic. She thought she was ripped off and now out $400. I texted to her ‘not to worry’. She wondered how this could have all occurred. I texted her, ‘…it will be resolved in the morning. I need to sleep’.

It’s funny, I know I’ve gone through this type of panic phase with expenditures myself. You panic, because you want to be frugal. You want to be secure. She wants to show maturity. And its not always that you want to show the world you’ve matured. Yet, it’s deeper. It’s personal. My LAST words to her will be, “If you haven’t done something before, ask me. That’s why I am still here.” They won’t be my first words. If I were to make them my first words, I would surely be shut out from her kingdom. Yes, laugh now. That is how many young people trying to gain and show independence have you, their parent(s) set up.

The setup is, “Take Suzie and I to the mall. And for God’s Sake don’t tell any of your jokes. No stories please. And well, could you just drive us?” Parental response, “I don’t know you. Will I get a tip at the end of the drive?” Teenage eye roll. Parent continues, “I’m so kidding. Seriously, I’m kidding.” Another teenage eye roll.

Back to last night into this morning, as she wore herself down with unimaginable panic. And I’ll call it unnecessary panic. Why? I’m her mother. It’s that simple. Most parents hopefully feel that way. Why? Because we must. We are their fallout shelter. Yep. It’s that simple. Not a wrinkle of panic, do we show. Because you could again get kicked out of their secure kingdom. So, I stay in my undisclosed location for emergencies.

Oh, the Special Line. “It’s going to be okay.” No matter what, it will be. I convince myself nearly all the time of that, because as I told myself during the Vietnam War, when my mother who was ill would panic about my brother possibly getting drafted. I’d say to myself, “I don’t have a bomb dropping on my head. I have bread and milk every day. I can walk. I wear shoes... And I will do all I can to make certain my brother doesn’t get killed in a war. I will go instead of him.” All that, remains in my mind. It all worked out. To this day, I process all those thoughts at least once a day.

This morning, I decided I would go to the bank with the letter sent to her that was contradictory to the email she’d received days ago. The two items came nearly at the same time. One from what we thought was place she had the purchase, and the other was from the bank and credit card company. I arrived at the bank early. And as luck would have it, two of my favorite bank officers were in. And no customers were in.

I showed both of them the letter and the email. The snail mail was from them, and it said ‘they recognized the situation and would be remedying it relatively soon’. Sooner than myself or my daughter thought. The email was odd though. It was from the vendor she had the purchase with that should have credited her card. They had the wrong card number and wrong card type as well. Weird. I was glad that I told her to give no information out to anyone, and not respond to the email, till I got back to her.

Even though it appears resolved in a matter of days from now. I pointed out the honest mistake she made, as far as the vendor she used online. She was trying to be independent. And she’s usually quite savvy. But like all of us. Every once in a while, we are ahead of ourselves. Until we crash and burn, losing time and sometimes $100.  I told her, that “…this is adult life. This is a lesson. And continual drama is unnecessary and draining. Live and Learn and Pass it on. It’s okay to be upset. But know the mistake. So, it’s not repeated in your life.”

Days from now the conversation will be, “Was it worth the blood pressure fluctuation? Will it matter five years from now?”

She now knows I am the “Anti-Drama Mama”.  So, these little panics our young adults may have, are a kind of slow version of Pon Farr. Yet, can be just as painful to them, because it is real. And it’s in their reality.---Jody-Lynn Reicher

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Completion of Humanness

Completion of Humanness As we arrive to the completion of the first year without Norman, I had decided long before he'd passed that I would continue to do things certain things he liked yet could no longer do. I decided I would not take a day off of fitness.  I would run at least for 500 days in a row. I began that in early 2020.  I'd not be concerned with the distance I'd run. It was the very thing I convinced Norman and the thing that mattered to him, from the very first discussion we had August 11th, 1981, was fitness. I loved that he was a College Boy. He loved that I was a Marine. We tickled each other's soul with such admirations. Later fitness continued as an old discussion from 1994 ...getting outside and to run no matter what. I would say to him, "Run 200 meters, then 400 meters. If it doesn't feel good, stop. Turn around and walk back home and know you did your best. That is all you can ask of yourself." I said this,  knowing he would get dow

In My World

As I finish putting away the week's groceries, I contemplate other's lives. Aside from my two daughters,  I consider what may be other's lives.  How they have conducted their lives over the past two years.  This is a thought not unusual for me to have. Yet, it occurs more often than not. Especially  now, as the population is probably feeling ever more irked. Regarding perhaps. their illusion of any lack of their freedom. But isn't that what life is about? The illusion of who we are. What we are about. Where we stand on the planet. Who we love. And who loves us. Our significance. Couldn't we imagine if this were all just an illusion? Sounds like a "Twighlight Zone" episode, perhaps. My aim here, are the thoughts of reckoning. I'll explain why I'm claiming such a thing. For about twenty-eight years of a career in dealing with injured athletes,  pain patients, chronically ill and the terminally ill. I found that there were many people who lied to

It's About the Soul And...

  ...perhaps the soles of our shoes. My father-in-law used to say the feet are what soldiers depend on, as we do food. He said that to me in 1985 as I stood in his home office.  My husband, Norman was a shoe guy. And it was all about the soles on the shoes.  For me, the way I have stayed on my feet was soul deep. Sometimes praying every step of the way, to not fall over out of exhaustion. The approximately 170,000 miles of running, many of which Norman had witnessed or known of. He wondered how I stayed standing working on my feet all day. Only to come home, and go for a second run at midnight at times.  Often Norman would give me a lecture on good shoe care. It was about the soles of the shoes. He'd point out stitching on a shoe that was done wrong. Therefore commenting, "...giving a shoe less time of wear on this earth."  He'd remark quite often. "You have to buy good quality shoes." I have to say, there was absolutely something comedic about his shoe obse