When you get to be a certain age you face birthdays with a bit of trepidation. You know that there will be little celebrating. The likelihood of no presents. And the fact that you will be at work and it will be just another day for the majority of those around you. Today is not my birthday.
I generally work from home and like it just fine, thank you very much. I had to go to the office today for a spate of meetings. That is fine. I expect that to be the case. I almost enjoy actually seeing other people and talking to them. Socializing, I believe it is called. Today while at the office, I got a call from my other half saying that our son was “sick” and he was called to school and had picked him up. Our son said that he was feeling like he was going to throw up. We both thought that his nausea was brought on by the fact that he had basketball practice today with his very yelling prone coach. I was irritated but if he had to come home sick, at least he wasn’t actually vomiting.
By the time I was able to come back home, my son had eaten the home lunch that I had packed him. All of it. I forced him to do all the homework due tomorrow. Some of the homework due on Friday. And one of the things that he said had been completed but hadn’t been. After all of this was complete we were chatting a bit. This is when I discovered the true reason my son had left school. Apparently one of his lovely classmates had made a disparaging comment to him about me, of all things. He has been teased about me before because I have short hair. I thought that was kind of lame. Today it involved me and male parts that, well, I really don’t possess. And my son got upset. He told me that he wanted to throw a chair at this boy and of course, part of me sort of supported that, but the very PC mother part of me told him that he would be the one to get in trouble if he did that. He told me that he left the class, went to the bathroom and then headed to the health room. I am thinking that I am going to have to contact the head of school. This is not the first time my son has had a problem with this boy. A while back he had convinced my perfectly normal weight son that he was “fat.” This was very troubling to me. Was I going to end up with an overly body conscious teen if this was occurring at eleven? But we talked it out and the email was never sent. It may be time.
This evening I spent part of my night doing my son’s extreme dot-to-dot book. They are fairly addicting (ask my mother) in that they often go up to near one thousand and you have no idea what the picture is until you are pretty far in. The book I was doing was the American History themed one and the first picture was of the Boston Tea Party. They were truly rocking the boat. I decided to do another since the first one was sort of stress relieving. The second was a picture of a 1960s flower power hippie chick. She had long hair with those glasses and was making a peace sign. I figure that my reaction to the school incident should lie somewhere between these two dot outcomes. Somewhere between raising a ruckus and going down there and giving this kid a hug, which I am in no way inclined to do.
Tomorrow is my birthday and I am glad for it. I know too many people who are no longer celebrating theirs. Or who are hoping for an opportunity to celebrate at all. And I hate my wrinkles. And I hate my bifocals. But the universe is very clear regarding the alternative so I’m leaning Boston Tea Party on this. The aging thing. What is it they say?……”getting old is not for sissies.” I’m trying to not be a sissy. I’m trying to do the right thing. For myself and for my son. Sometimes it is all just unfair. And there is no room for flower power. Like now.