Pile of crazy
2.15.09
Now, I’m far from being one of those hysterical mothers, but as of Friday night, I hadn’t heard from Sean — via any means — in what seemed like so long that I was actually plotting how I could find a way to contact someone in Chadbourne to go check on him. Then I even did what I try very hard not to do: I called him. I took the chance of imposing on him or interrupting him, and I left what I hoped would sound like a fairly upbeat Valentine’s Day voice message on Saturday. Thankfully, he put me out of my misery by e-mailing later that day.
Turns out that he’s fine. (You guessed that, didn’t you?) It was just that he’d had, as he put it, his “all-time most-stressful week here, and I was working pretty much ’round the clock to get everything done.” I told him that that’s how I remember college being, too — or at least a lot of the time. Yes, I was an over-achiever, but I honestly didn’t understand people who had lots of time for lots of drinking, or even lots of time for lots of sleeping.
He’s also not loving his French class, which is too bad (I still groove on it, but then again, I would — I was a French major, among other things), but I respect that. He just has to get through it with an A or a B this semester, and then he’ll earn 17 retro credits — which seems crazy! (Crazy good, that is.)
And, he reassured me that after his killer week, he’d “had a very fun night last night, and did absolutely nothing productive between 1:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m. Plus, I get to go to Caroline’s Valentine’s Day Party for the Single and Bitter tonight! Should be a hoot. Okay. Now I do have to go do some homework.”
What a kid.
So things are fine. And all the things I’d been worried about? He’s getting them handled — as my mind knew he would, but somehow my crazy heart feared he wouldn’t.
Breathe, Mom, breathe…
Turns out that he’s fine. (You guessed that, didn’t you?) It was just that he’d had, as he put it, his “all-time most-stressful week here, and I was working pretty much ’round the clock to get everything done.” I told him that that’s how I remember college being, too — or at least a lot of the time. Yes, I was an over-achiever, but I honestly didn’t understand people who had lots of time for lots of drinking, or even lots of time for lots of sleeping.
He’s also not loving his French class, which is too bad (I still groove on it, but then again, I would — I was a French major, among other things), but I respect that. He just has to get through it with an A or a B this semester, and then he’ll earn 17 retro credits — which seems crazy! (Crazy good, that is.)
And, he reassured me that after his killer week, he’d “had a very fun night last night, and did absolutely nothing productive between 1:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m. Plus, I get to go to Caroline’s Valentine’s Day Party for the Single and Bitter tonight! Should be a hoot. Okay. Now I do have to go do some homework.”
What a kid.
So things are fine. And all the things I’d been worried about? He’s getting them handled — as my mind knew he would, but somehow my crazy heart feared he wouldn’t.
Breathe, Mom, breathe…
