violetismycolor

the scoop...

After a two-week hiatus due to the holiday break, the Coffee Girls (which includes a few guys now and then) were back in force this morning.  I'll tell you, these women know EVERYTHING that happens in our community. 

So, what was the BIG story this morning? 

Apparently, on NYE there was a big party (more than 100 kids involved) where the parents were home...worse, they bought the kegs, and the party was eventually raided by the police...with the father being taken away in handcuffs.  What the hell were they thinking?

Tons of kids were cited with MIP's (which I was not cool enough to know meant "minors in possession" till I was told).  The police told the kids to get into two groups:  those who had been drinking and those who hadn't.  The kids who placed themselves in the hadn't-been-drinking group were all given breathalyzer tests. 

And where was my high schooler that night?  At a nerdy gamers party with his Dungeon and Dragon-playing buddies.  He did tell me that one of his other friends from school today told him that he had been at THE party but had hidden from the police in the bushes.  Ross thought that was funny, but has no interest in going to a party and drinking. 

How thankful I am that my kids were/are not partyers in high school.  One less thing to worry about.  Luckily, my kids are as uncool as I was in high school.

mothering...

Adam had a hole in his St. Andrew's sweatshirt and needed it repaired, which I did today. 

Originally, when he had asked me to fix it, I had looked at the ripped, shredded, 3-inch wide gash in the right shoulder (back) of this very nice sweatshirt we had bought him when we visited last spring, and I had asked him (in all innocence), "What did you DO to this?"

He looked at me, and deadpanned, "I got hit by a truck." 

"Oh, yeah, sorry!" I had apologized.

It was hard to look at the evidence of his accident and to think about it.  No one who has a child likes to think about them hurting, in any way:  physically, mentally, emotionally.  And yet, every parent will face some of that..   

Adam now has his smile back.  He has a little bit of scarring on his upper lip, but nothing serious.  His wrist is still sore.  He has trouble playing piano much.  He can't play the guitar because he can't strum.  We want him to be 100% again, and he almost is.  But I still try not to think about what he went through.  I still won't look at the pictures his friends took of him.  It's too hard.  I am afraid to.  Afraid of how much pain I would feel to see it. 

I am just grateful to be able to do the little things that I can do for him.  Going to the dentist with him.  To the doctor.  Helping him to do the hot/cold soaking of his wrist.  Patching his sweatshirt.  Little things, but they feel like mothering.  What I couldn't do when he was knocked down. 

One more day, and he goes back to Scotland.  He's going to start riding his bike again.  He said his friends told him they were surprised we didn't give him a helmet for Christmas.  I told him that I would have but I knew it would have been too bulky for him to take back with him.  He said that he figured that much.

He knows I expect him to have a helmet next time he gets on a bike.  He says he will.  I am hoping that it is so.  I am trying not to worry about the whole bike-riding thing.  I guess this is mothering and it never stops, no matter how big your baby is.