It was bound to happen sooner or later. I just knew it would! I could feel it in my bones. Better late then never I suppose. Get it over with. You do know what I am talking about don’t you? Sure you do. We all go through it; it’s like all the other rituals in life. Some make it to the event a little earlier than others but most of us have had the experience.
What I am referring to of course is the late night call from the teen that lives in your house. He or she is that ghostly figure that you see once in a blue moon roaming around; you catch a glimpse of them mostly at meal times. We happen to have a son, who is seventeen at the time I am writing this piece. This is sort of a testament to his adolescence not yet an adult but not a child. Physically he resembles the quarterback from the Oakland Raiders. So the event that I am speaking of is the late night call. Last night as my husband and I sawed logs as they say, beat from another day on the treadmill of life. The phone rings at 1:15 am. Oh no, I think to myself, is it my mom? Or is it my Dad? Being in that sandwich generation you never know which topping is going to spill out of said sandwich. This time it is the younger of the toppings, the son! He is calling to ask if he can stay at his friend’s house for the night. No problem I answer him, I know the friend and I also know he is not far from us if there is a problem. I am half a sleep and hear him say “thanks mom”and click he is gone.
Back to sleep I go, like a baby. An hour or so later I think it was 3:08 to be exact we get yet another call. This time my husband answers. Again I go through the list of who it could be. I then hear my significant other say, “Are you all right?” “What happened?” “You did what?” It was beginning to sound like the inquisition. Then I hear “Well, call us back and let us know what is going on but I think you should come home. ” Then I realize it’s not my parents but my seventeen your old son.
That was our son my husband whispers in my ear. Bringing back memories of days long gone when whispering in my ear was romantic, unlike at this moment it is being done in order for me not to panic as mothers so often do. My husband tells me that our son is at the hospital. Here comes the panic “what?” I say not in a whisper either. “He’s at the hospital, he fell down some stairs and is getting stitches in his head” “Stitches in his head?” I said. “Yes, he wasn’t sure if he was going to go back to his friends or come home. I told him to come home. ” My husband informs me. We then try to fall back asleep, wondering if our son was going to survive out there in the scary world with stitches in his head. How would he do it without us?
Then about an hour later we receive yet another call. I must say thank God for cell phones. My husband answers again. “Yes, he’s leaving? Are you ok? Are you going to be sick? Yes I’m coming right now.” At this point we are both pretty much wide awake. My husband gets dressed and tells me he is going to pick up our son at the hospital. Our son’s friend had to leave to go to work. It was 4:18 am at this time. And how silly of us to think our parenting days were over?
By 5:00am both my son and husband are safe and sound at home. My son was fine except for a huge gash in the front of his head. He had six stitches and was given a pain killer. “How are you?” I ask him. “I’m ok now, but you should have seen the blood mom. I went outside it was bleeding so much. I didn’t want to get blood all over my friend’s house.” Well, no God forbid I thought to myself. “Yea so what my friends did mom was to get some flour and put it on the cut to stop the bleeding.” My son tells me this in all seriousness. This is why parents need to talk to their children because who knows where they get their information. “Flour is for making cakes I tell him, not for stopping gushing blood from your head! Were you drinking?” I ask this knowing full well that he had been drinking. “Yes, he tells me, I slipped on the stairs going down to the basement.”
“You were lucky that it wasn’t more serious.” The heart to heart would have to wait till we all had some sleep.
We then tried to find something to put on his head so the bandage would not fall off. All sorts of things were tired until we came up with fitting a toque on his head. All part of growing up I suppose, and it was bound to happen sooner or later. The late night phone call, the one that sends your stomach for a ride. With elderly parents and teenagers on the run one never knows what kind of call you are going to get in the night and from whom.
So for those of you, who are just beginning the ride, fasten your seat belts. The road of life is long and sometimes can be treacherous. Make sure you’re packing a good sense of humor and a husband who is willing to run to the hospital in the middle of the night to retrieve boys that go bump in the night.
Photo Credits
Photos by Martha Farley – All Rights Reserved
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