Are You His Mother, Or What?

I just got back from a weekend trip to visit my son and his roommate, an old high school friend. Although both boys have grown up in the ten years following high school, I couldn’t help but reminisce to myself just a little bit.

From my June 14, 2000 journal -

Jonathan calls, “Mom, how does Cody go about going to the doctor?”

“What happened?”

“He hurt his foot at the rodeo.” (He was not participating – he was too old.)

“He was sliding down the tent pole and probably broke his ankle.” (At two a.m. - you do the math.)

“He should probably call his mother and find out if he has to go to a certain clinic, then call that clinic and tell them he needs to have an x-ray. Oh, and make sure you tell Cody to call into work and let them know what’s going on also.”

Cody is now in my basement 24 hours a day until the doctor says he can go back to work. Should I worry that he has only microwave popcorn to eat? Should I worry that he might need some movies to watch or something? Should I make sure there’s plenty of ice?

Last night I fed him broasted chicken and macaroni and cheese. Then I invited him upstairs for a change of scenery. He sat in the recliner for a while and watched tv with Mickey. I offered to get him a bag of ice for his foot. I asked him if he needed any ibuprofen.

Mickey says to me, “Are you his mother, or what?”

I shrugged off her question, but realized that there is an instinctive part inside all mothers to take care of anyone’s children, not just their own. Besides, this is how they learn!

The next day I fed him two BLT’s and a chocolate malt, to which Cody replied, “I tried to pick up my room a little today. It was kind of hard to do though, because I had to crawl on the floor to do it.”

Ten years later, Cody is now a successful manager at a large retail store – still going to rodeos almost every weekend. But these ones, he is participating in.