Today has been one of those days. So much so that I grumbled on Facebook:
"The problem with young adults living at home is that you are no longer parenting them, at least not in their minds. Watching their decision making is tough. Putting up with their stupidity ditto. Quite possibly more frustrating than parenting the terrible twos - at least then, you could use time outs."
Our gaggle of offspring are 22, 20 and 18. The older two are firmly entrenched in post secondary studies, one living at home and the other on a campus 3000 km away. The youngster is working full time, with post secondary plans down the road. All three have a toe dipped into the adult world, the other foot firmly in the safety net of parental care.
Today's challenge actually started more than 24 hours ago, and involves the youngest little darling. He's type 1 diabetic but he's an adult now, and so I'm not supposed to be worrying about him or how he manages his diabetes. He's got it all under control, really. (If I could I'd insert a picture of my childhood friend making her best 'you're kidding me' face, where she rolls both eyes in toward her nose like no one else can).
Anyway, late Tuesday night child 3 informs me that he is 'almost' out of one type of insulin, thinks he has enough to handle the night and morning dose. Nothing like giving me some time to take care of this issue, son. Well, not only did he tell me at the 11th hour, I promptly forgot. #momfail #momguilt
Boy leaves for work about 7:30 a.m. as usual, and ends up working late. Comes home disgruntled about all of the overtime he is making (really!), showers and goes out with the girlfriend. Despite the cold, hubby and I've been out for dinner, spitting distance from the WalMart pharmacy, but the needed insulin has completely slipped my mind.
11:30 p.m., I bolt out of a nice deep sleep at the sound of rumbling in the kitchen, realizing that I failed to buy insulin. I utter a string of expletives and apologize profusely to the boy (but wait, is this really all on me?), who's reaction is to say
"Why are your eyes so red and bloodshot. Are you baked?" followed by
"Don't worry mom. I'll figure it out." "You're sure being a worrier, mom"
And at that point, despite his reassurance that he has it all under control, I'm wide awake with no hope of falling asleep anytime soon. I doze through some conversation between the lad and his father at the crack of dawn but I'm not sure of the details.
9:30 a.m. the boy sends me a text message:
"Can you get Insulin ASAP. I might need to come get it."
As I'm leaving, I pass him arriving home, and we have a brief and unpleasant conversation. He's upset with his job: too much work, too much overtime. He's thinking he'll quit. I'm thinking 'this is blood sugar talking', because that's an irrational decision if ever there was one. There is no reasoning to be had. He's angry, he's not going to wait for the proper insulin, he's going to have more of the fast response stuff and get back to work. I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall. Or banging my head against one.
Such a conundrum: quitting because I'm working too much. Why, just this past fall he left a pretty sweet gig with a rugby academy because he wasn't able to find enough work in Vancouver. Came back home to the booming Edmonton economy, to a job he has repeatedly says he likes (loves perhaps?), and now thinks it reasonable to quit over too many hours.
"Hey, kid, you do know that all those hours means mucho dinero in your banko, right?" (and more importantly, keeps you out of the bank of mom).
The challenge here is that I know that, no matter my reasonable and knowledgable thoughts on this topic, he'll do what he thinks is best. I'll "let" him make his bed and lie in it (as my mother said to me ad nauseum in my youth), but I'll have just as many feelings of guilt over it as I do over forgetting to buy his insulin. Even though 'he's an adult, and managing just fine'.
I'm so logical that I dealt with my frustration by buying a new shower curtain and bath mat, in menopause mauve just because I can. Mauve is a spring like, happy color, and it will inject a bit of whimsy into my day.
Came home to find he'd left muddy boot prints all over the bathroom floor.
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