Jacob and I
survived five days and nights on our own. Nothing bad happened, and I think we’re
still friends—you’d have to check with him for sure, and then you’d get that classic
teenage answer, “It’s okay.”
Jordan had won two
three-night packages at resorts, one in St. Martin’s and one in Anguilla, so
they were off for a Caribbean vacation. Jacob didn’t really like to look at the
pictures they sent because deep down he thought he should be with them and not
sleeping on his grandmother’s couch in a cottage.
He had chores—one reason
that he was here and not with his Coppell grandparents where he gets to sleep
late and fish and go shopping and to the movies. Nope, he was stuck with me who
does none of those things and prodded him out of bed at nine every morning to
let the dogs out and feed them. He was also responsible for watering, front and
back, and he had certain rules to follow. Bless him, he really tried hard to do
it right.
He was okay to be
in the house until bedtime but then he was to come to the cottage. I’d forgotten
how teens will bargain and negotiate. We worked it so I called him ten minutes before I wanted to go to bed—this wasn’t exactly a hardship. I’ve been staying up until
eleven or beyond. But one night, it was, “Just ten minutes, Juju. This program
will be over in ten minutes.” Of course it wasn’t, and several calls later, it
was after midnight before we went to bed.
Jacob is
notorious, at least in my mind, for not liking my cooking. All those people who
wax eloquent about memories of Grandma’s cooking? That will not be Jacob unless
he changes. I had stocked up on several things I thought he’d eat—even that culinary
abomination, chicken nuggets. I had enough canned green beans left for a
company-sized casserole. Along with the chicken nuggets, baked beans, hot dogs,
etc. I opened can of chili for my lunch today (Wolf Brand, of course.) He fixed
himself breakfast and sometimes lunch, and when I’d ask if he wanted something,
guess what he said? “I’m okay.”
Two days before
his parents got home, Jacob did go to his other grandparents. You’d think I’d
be relieved, but I wasn’t—I missed having him on my couch at night. Sophie has
gone back to sleeping on the couch, but it’s not quite the same. While Jacob occupied
her favorite spot, she slept at the foot of my bed, as though she were
protecting me. From Jacob?
What I learned
from those five days was to lower my expectations. My visions of happy outings
to dinner and elsewhere did not fit his vision of staying with his grandmother.
We each made it work. He got in some golf and fishing; I got to do some work and
some cooking, even if he didn’t eat it.
Jacob’s welcome
home day was long unpleasant for him, his dad, and his grandparents. Christian’s
car died at the meet-up point in Grand Prairie, and they sat forever waiting for
AAA and then for the tow truck. They were
exhausted when they finally made it to Fort Worth. The senior Burtons couldn’t
be persuaded to join us for dinner, but we had a pre-birthday dinner for me,
with the Frisco Alters, at Tokyo Café. We “hung out” in the afternoon with lots
of cell phone time and cultural exchanges (I used that term lightly) that I didn’t
understand—but now I know about Area 51 and Naruto running. The things an old
lady learns! Lovely sushi dinner and lots of laughter and fun. So grateful to
the Frisco family for making the trek over to Fort Worth.
Today Jacob goes
to Sky Ranch for a week, so we’ll be missing him again.
 |
| Jordan was obviously happy to see her boy after ten days |
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