This is what I tell myself when I face disappointments.
I’m not sure I that I one hundred percent believe it, though. It just seems so trite. I mean, I do believe it, in a big picture kind of way, but in the short term it really doesn’t help.
Today my kid got some disappointing news. It’s not the end of the world, and nobody is hurt or anything, but it sucks.
Yes, I believe it will all work out in the end, but what if the way it works out isn’t as good? Too bad, I guess. We don’t have control over every aspect of our existence. We have to play the hand we’re dealt. And realistically, his hand is still pretty darn good, in spite of this situation.
I hope my son is able to see it that way too. I really do have faith that however things turn out, he will be just fine.
My boy and I took off over spring break. Just the two of us. We hit the road, and stayed in a posh “old” Hollywood Hotel that stretched the limits of my budget, but you know what? I didn’t care.
On the way there, we stopped at the Patton Museum out in the California desert. It’s a cool little museum with a massive topographical map of the region and an impressive display of tanks and other military vehicles. My son loved it as much as his father does. I sent his dad some pictures, and he was thrilled that I took him. I’m glad we stopped there. It was informative, and a nice break along the way.
Once in Los Angeles, we spent a day at Universal Studios. We were surprised when we got a sneak peek at the whole Harry Potter section, which isn’t scheduled to open until next month. Boy was it fun! Hogwarts Castle is fantastic, and even though I was too fat to actually ride the roller coaster (yes, it’s true) I still LOVED going through the castle (designed to accommodate a long line, but we zipped through it – in fact we zipped through all the lines).
I felt bad for my son about the fat thing, but he didn’t want to ride without me so he missed a few rides (two in Harry Potter land and the Mummy). We had a blast on just about everything else though, even if I did feel a little squished in most of them. Lucky for me he’s a good sport, and didn’t make me feel bad at all about my fatness. He’s a keeper.
We also did the tourist thing at Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum, and had a ball posing with the wax figures. It was fun to be with him and let our hair down. Superheroes? Got ’em. Pop stars? Yep. Sports figures? Politicians? Actors? They’re all there. I had breakfast with Audrey Hepburn and he putted with Tiger Woods. We sent home photos of Forrest Gump and Lawrence of Arabia. I even shelled out for the silly green screen photos they took of us escaping a dinosaur attack.
We also ate on our trip. Boy did we eat. I had a voucher for the hotel, and we ate one “fancy” meal there. Striped bass with vegetables and fried stuffed squash blossoms. Delish. We also had the most delicious burgers at a place that was so good we went twice. And then there was the sundae. Oh. My. Gawd. The Ghiardelli chocolate people have an ice cream parlor right on Hollywood Boulevard, and they have the most heavenly concoctions imaginable. The ingredients are top notch, and the whole experience is a lot of fun. Just thinking about it has me craving another sea salt caramel hot fudge sundae.
The good news is that we got some exercise too. We hoofed it around the LaBrea Tar Pits, the LA Farmer’s Market, and USC’s campus, not to mention all the miles at Universal Studio and along the Walk of Fame. I even swam laps in the post hotel pool (sight of a Marilyn Monroe photo shoot long ago, I’m told).
I don’t know if it’s the last trip my son and I will get to take together as he prepares to fly the nest, but it was certainly a good one. I’m so glad we splurged and spent a few days living the high life. In the end I won’t remember the cost, just the time spent with my son enjoying each other’s company.
Oh sure, he’s had his permit for a while now, after all, he’s nearly 18 years old. Except that his permit has expired. This is news to me. As in, I found out about 15 minutes ago. Apparently you’re supposed to actually learn to drive and get your license once you obtain the permit. Oh.
Last year, over Christmas break, he got his permit.
This year, over Christmas break, it expired.
Nobody realized it. It just sat in his wallet and when he announced that he was really ready to go for it we all assumed that everything was in order, and I handed him the keys. He had driven a few times before, around the block and in the neighborhood, but now he wanted to really practice. It was time.
We drove around a bit, and I made some inquiries into various driving schools. I picked one, and signed him up. It’s not cheap, but as far as I’m concerned it’s a lifetime investment in his safety, and I’m not about to skimp on that.
Today he is scheduled for a full day of classroom instruction, no actual driving. We’re to arrive a bit early to finish filling in paperwork and pay. We’re to bring along his permit. Which expired.
Darn it!
The good news is that Spring Break is coming up, so we get go get a new one then, but his road practice will have to wait.
Sometimes we think we’re prepared, but we just aren’t quite ready. That’s how I feel about a lot of things lately. I’m not quite ready to see him go driving off, and I’m not quite ready for him to graduate high school. I’m not quite ready for him to move away to college, and I’m not quite ready for him to be a man. Just like the driving, though, it’s time, so I might as well get used to it.
My boy and I took off over spring break. Just the two of us. We hit the road, and stayed in a posh “old” Hollywood Hotel that stretched the limits of my budget, but you know what? I didn’t care.
I had breakfast with Audrey Hepburn and he putted with Tiger Woods. We sent home photos of Forrest Gump and Lawrence of Arabia. I even shelled out for the silly green screen photos they took of us escaping a dinosaur attack.
The good news is that we got some exercise too. We hoofed it around the LaBrea Tar Pits, the LA Farmer’s Market, and USC’s campus, not to mention all the miles at Universal Studio and along the Walk of Fame. I even swam laps in the post hotel pool (sight of a Marilyn Monroe photo shoot long ago, I’m told).
BulgingButtons 