A full day after leaving my son at college in New York City, I am cleaning his room out. If you think that’s too early, wait for your own teen to leave. I find: 5 Visine bottles, an empty box of Trojans, one lone condom package and a slew of Polish Playboys. I am not sure I expected anything different. He has been at NYU for four days and already has a girlfriend. And a hickey. My husband had to tell me this because Cole won’t text me. I can’t tell if it’s an independent thing or he’s as glad to be away from me as I am. I guess I don’t really care.
I love my son, yet I have to admit I’m a little bit giddy he’s gone. I find that I keep bracing myself to deal with him. In the morning, I keep expecting to run into him at the kitchen table: IPAD, cereal and scowl. Some whiny rude remark, some sort of demand and my whole day is shot. If he were my boyfriend, I would break up with him.
But he’s not there. He’s not anywhere. I find him on Facebook, photos other students have taken of him at parties, eyes rolling high. But he has a smile and I have not seen it for a while. This makes me happy.
I also find him on his blog. He has been asked to write about welcome
week; what he has done, seen, feels. The problem with this is I’m learning things most parents don’t want to know. $60,000 to party all night. Every night. I know he’s taking shots in an apartment on Broadway over American Apparel. I know he is not sleeping, that he’s late for meetings and he’s smoked cigarettes.
week; what he has done, seen, feels. The problem with this is I’m learning things most parents don’t want to know. $60,000 to party all night. Every night. I know he’s taking shots in an apartment on Broadway over American Apparel. I know he is not sleeping, that he’s late for meetings and he’s smoked cigarettes.
I probably should stop reading what he writes. It’s stressing me out. But not in the way you’d think. I am scared he will be kicked out for underage drinking and end up back here at the kitchen table, making my days sour and sad. He belongs in New York City. He’s belonged there since conception.
It takes him five days to finally text me. I admit I am thrilled he’s finally sharing with me. I want details. Then I hit the view button. “I’m stopping the antibiotics.”
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