He may not be a morning person

The three of you who have are actually suffering through reading this blog (all three previous posts) already know this, but it has been several years since my mother asked me if I was living an alternative lifestyle. But in the unlikely event that anyone else ever ends up reading this garbage, I thought perhaps I should let them in on the origins of the title, so I thought I should post that one. And yes, I wrote in present tense. And yes, I have reasons for that, but I would have to get up on my literary high horse to tell you about them and if you aren’t one of my literary friends you would probably get bored and click on the “next blog” button and end up reading about some cool kid puking in the subway in Manhattan after a night of seven dollar Coronas.

So here in the present day, I am finished with grad school (and by finished I mean, I still have one class to take and a thesis to turn in, but as my thesis and laptop were stolen and I still owe the university for a semester of tuition and can’t register for any new classes and thus will not be able to take classes until I pay that shit off, I am finished), I am working at the university from which I failed to graduate, and I am no longer living with my friend, but still reside in the former seat of the Confederacy. With my son. Who is now fourteen.

Which brings me to the point of today’s post:

I woke this morning at four to put the wunderkind on a 6:45 flight to the Midwest, where his father will be picking him up so they can spend the rest of the summer hanging out in their underwear, eating day-old pizza from cardboard boxes left on the floor, and watching reruns of Viva la Bam and all the R-rated movies the kid’s horrible mother would not let him see while he was here. Despite his father’s promise to me that they will watch no such films.

And upon his return, it will take me another nine months to de-program him, just enough time for him to go back to his father’s again.

But still not my point.

While I was working yesterday, and still while I was doing laundry and getting the kid’s things together to be packed, he was at a theme park with some family friends. Last night was my night off from the restaurant – one of two nights per week I am not working – a night I usually spend napping, hanging out with and feeding the kid, and then going to bed early. It’s an exciting life, I know. But last night, as the kid had to be prepared for his father’s house, I skipped the going to bed early part (I did manage to get a short nap in – ahhh, napping!).

He showed up sometime after nine and immediately launched into a plea to be taken to the mall, and after the mall had definitely closed, to wal-mart in order to purchase a new video game for his long (six hour) trek to see his father. From my son’s lips came phrases such as, “I love you, Mommy” and “You’re the best” said so saccharinely that he could have had naked pancakes and they still would have rotted his teeth. He finally gave up sometime after eleven, and I sent us both to bed, though I didn’t make it there until about midnight.

So, on an entire four hours of sleep, with me having to work until after twelve tonight, I shoved the kid toward the shower, threw his bags in the car and we headed to the airport. For the next thirty minutes, me without nicotine or caffeine because we were running late, this was the conversation:

Kid: Why do we have to leave so early? This is stupid.

Me: Your father bought the ticket. I guess this worked out best. Ask him.

Kid: Why couldn’t I just take the train?

Me: Once again, ask your father.

Kid: I’m going to be on a plane all day. This is bullshit.

Me: Watch your mouth.

Kid: I can’t watch my mouth. That’s just stupid.

Me: I love how pleasant you are in the morning.

Kid: Well maybe if you didn't make me get up so early.

Me: It’s too early to argue. Just don’t speak.

Kid: Your car smells.

Me: Crank the window.

Kid (rolling down the window):It's the outside that smells.

Me: I can't help you there.

Kid: Now I’m going to smell. I can’t even take body spray on the plane.

Me:

Kid: This is stupid. Like I’m going to take down a plane with my can of Axe. Airline people are stupid.

Me:

Kid (once arriving in the parking garage and unloading his bags): Why do I have to bring so much crap? Now I have to carry all this (as I unload and roll his bags down toward the terminal).

Kid (in the terminal, seeing the two people ahead of us in line at the ticket counter; upon being asked to put luggage tags on his skateboard and carry-on bag; upon seeing the line for the security checkpoint; upon being asked to remove his belt before going through the metal detector; and upon having to put his shoes back on after the security checkpoint): Oh my god!

Me (at 6:55; upon lighting my first cigarette of the morning, after handing him over to the airline employee in charge of the unaccompanied minor): Oh . . . my . . . god . . .